Research and Development
by StarryGazer
Summary: SLASH. COMPLETE. Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Mwahaha. Not while I’M the author. Harry is filled with adolescent rage, Remus fights his inappropriate lust, and they both end up facing your typical werewolf plot device
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Research and Development Part I; Hunger

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: (where feedback should be sent: on or off list)

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Mwahahaha. Not while _I'm  _the author. Harry's filled with adolescent rage, Remus fights his inappropriate lust, and they both end up facing a werewolf plot device.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: tahnee and Kel—thanks, guys!

Hunger

          Harry sat on the floor on his bedroom, staring at his feet. He could he hear the muted noise of the television downstairs, and the Dursleys gossiping and complaining. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, but he refused to sit on the bed. He did not deserve the comfort of a mattress. He was reading an advanced book on Transfiguration, having, for once—like Hermione—finished his course books before the school year even began. He would study hard, he told himself at the beginning of the summer, and he would like it. Or he wouldn't like it; but then he certainly didn't deserve to enjoy himself, did he?

          Sirius was dead. And whatever anyone else said, Harry knew that it was entirely his fault. At the beginning of the summer, he had been angry with everyone—Bellatrix, for taking the killing shot, Snape, for giving no hint that he'd understood Harry's warning and for always goading Sirius, Dumbledore, for keeping secrets from him, Umbridge, for her very existence, even Remus, for holding him back when he'd wanted to save Sirius or follow his godfather through the veil. But that had been months ago, and now that it was July, all of the loathing and blame had focused on one person—himself. He knew Sirius had died as a direct result of his own actions.

          He couldn't even begin to deal with the grief and guilt, so he hid himself away, in the darkness of his bedroom, and punished himself. No sitting on comfortable surfaces. No having fun. And even though the Dursleys fed him, he ate very little of what was offered. He had no appetite, and how dare he indulge that way, when Sirius would never eat again?

          All he did was work. He read every magical text he could get his hands on, studying as though his life depended on it—not that that mattered to him, but anyhow it very well might depend on it. And he jogged in place, and did sit ups and push ups and whatever exercise he could think of for an enclosed space. After all, he wasn't allowed to go outdoors anymore. Voldemort might 'get' him.

          As he was reading about changing states of matter, he heard a slight 'pop' in the corner of the room, and looked up quickly to see Mad-Eye Moody scowling at him. "Get your things, and let's get going."

          "Er. Where?" Harry inquired. It was only midsummer; they couldn't possibly take him away from the safety of the Dursleys yet, could they?

          "Your birthday party. We'll be coming back afterwards, so you won't be needing everything." His eye spun around, taking in all the objects in the room, most of which were actually Dudley's.

          Harry considered explaining this, but it seemed too much of an effort. "I'd rather not, thanks," he told the man. "I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but I think everyone would be safer if I just stayed here. We can throw parties any time, you know." A party—that was ALL Harry needed. He couldn't stand the thought of all those people around him, trying to cheer him up. All the meaningless platitudes and lip service. He frowned at the book, determined to ignore the man in the corner.

          Mad-Eye's accustomed scowl turned into a glare, but he was quiet for a long moment before saying anything. "Lupin put a lot of trouble into this party. He's going to have some mighty hurt feelings if you can't even bother to show up."

          Harry flushed, torn between anger and embarrassment. He didn't know who had figured out that Remus was a sure assault against his defenses, but he would like to strangle them. He had a shrewd idea it was Hermione—she was pretty perceptive, especially about things like feelings. He just wasn't certain if she realized he'd had something of a crush on the man since third year, or if she'd just seen that Harry felt more guilty about Remus than anything else. Whatever the case, he sure as hell didn't think it was anybody else's business.

          He took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. He was so angry all the time; it felt like he didn't have any control over his own body sometimes. Finally his shoulders slumped. The thing about Remus was that his feelings probably _would_ be hurt—and he would never, ever mention it. No, he would just be nice, like he always was. And Harry would feel even _worse_, with no way of explaining why Remus shouldn't be hurt. "I'll go," he said quietly, and Moody nodded. Harry got up and quickly gathered a few of his belongings. He wouldn't need much.

          "Here, take this," Moody held out his hand, where a small lug nut rested on a handkerchief. "Ministry gave Dumbledore the authority to make a few emergency Portkeys. I know you don't like 'em, and I don't blame you, but it's the best way."

          Harry grimaced, reluctantly reaching out to take touch the thing. Immediately, he felt the all too familiar hook behind his navel, and was soon standing in the Weasley's living room. Well, at least it wasn't 22 Grimmauld Place. He wasn't sure he could handle that. For now, he was just happy to be here, surrounded by…these people that thoroughly annoyed him. He sighed, trying to combat that black rage bubbling up inside of him again. It just came out of nowhere, sometimes, and made life so very hard to deal with.

          "Harry! I'm so glad you came!" that hoarse, welcome, dreaded voice sounded out behind him, and he tried to arrange his face in a suitably friendly smile.

          He turned to Lupin, who was smiling broadly…although it may have been a bit forced, and wearing a… "Er. Hi. Is that an _apron_? A _pink_ apron?" Harry gestured, feeling a bit at sea. He was used to seeing the man in shabby robes. It was true that he had fantasized—particularly at night when he couldn't seem to help himself—of seeing the man in something else, but…pink aprons had not featured prominently. Tight blue jeans, yeah. Leather jackets, for sure. Pink aprons? Not hardly…

          "Oh, that." Lupin looked mildly embarrassed. "Molly let me borrow it. For while I cooked. Er. Come see what I've made for you!"

          Harry felt the enormous guilt well up once more, far surpassing the rage in its insidious power, but, well… Lupin looked so proud. How would it alleviate Harry's self-reproach if he were to make the man feel badly by saying he wasn't hungry? Harry followed him into the kitchen, trying not to drag his feet too much. On the counter was one of the most…_gaudy_-looking desserts he had ever laid eyes on. Strawberries were sprinkled extravagantly across mounds of rich whipped cream, which were settled ponderously atop an almost-totally buried foundation of cake. Large scoops of ice cream lavishly surrounded the base, completing the very picture of an example of how to become obese in one sitting. Harry gaped.

          "That's…just…holy cow…" he managed.

          Remus beamed. "I did it all myself. It has a Chilling Charm on it, so it should still be fine after we've eaten supper—so I'm afraid you'll just have to wait until then to have some."

          "I—er…right…" Harry said dazedly, and let Lupin push him into the dining room.

          "Harry!" Hermione's arms were thrown around him, and he tried not to cringe away from the embrace. It wasn't like he didn't like Hermione, but he'd not grown up in a very touchy-feely family, and her enthusiasm could be a bit overwhelming.

          "Hey!" he said, trying to work some warmth into his voice. He was just so tired. "How've you been?" He followed her to sit at the table, where Ron gave him a grin.

          "Have some chicken, Harry. Mum fried it—it's really good—" he said, shoveling some onto a plate and handing it to his friend.

          "Um…thanks." Harry listened to Hermione talk about what was going on as far as she knew, and Lupin headed out into the backyard to join the rest of the adults. Harry picked at his food.

           "Come on; you'll want to eat more than _that_," Ron said. "D'you want to eat out back? There are six fully fledged wizards out there," he added for Hermione's benefit, "so Harry ought to be just fine outside."

          "Yeah…I would like that," Harry said gratefully, knowing he'd gotten terribly pale over the summer, languishing indoors all the time. "And I don't really need to eat any more. Did you see the _dessert_?"

          Ron laughed. "It's a monster, isn't it? Lupin was so happy he'd get to see you; I'm kind of surprised it doesn't need a room of its own. Eat it before it eats you, Harry, that's all I can say," he advised.

          Hermione grinned, too. "When he said he would need three dozen eggs, I thought Mrs. Weasley was going to tell him to buy his own. She didn't much like giving up her kitchen for the project, I can tell you that. And after seeing all the bowls and things he used…I thought we'd need a crane just to get it to the table."

           "I might have overdone it a tad," a voice responded, and the three whirled to see Lupin standing in the doorway. They turned an uncomfortable red, but the man was grinning. "But after all, how often does one turn sixteen? It's quite an important day, you know. From this day forward, Harry will be considered of age. He'll be allowed to learn to Apparate, and he'll—"

          "Not likely," Harry said grimly.

          Instead of faltering as Harry thought he would, Lupin just grinned more widely. "Actually, I think you'll find that we're all in agreement that you _should_ learn to Apparate, and the sooner the better. Tonks and Mad-Eye and I will all be instructing you. Hermione and Ron have already begun learning. Hermione's almost got it down pat."

           "Yeah, well, she would, wouldn't she?" Ron muttered sullenly, making Harry feel just a little better about having been left out of the lesson until now. Hermione shot him a glare, while still somehow managing to look properly pleased at Lupin's compliment.

          "Yes, well. Why don't we all head outside? Arthur's got a lovely barbeque going." He gave Harry an encouraging smile and shepherded them out the door.

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           Lupin sighed as he watched the boy skillfully maneuver his fork around so it looked like he was about to take a bite, without ever actually doing so. That same bit of potato salad had been there for a quarter of an hour. If this kept up, he would have no choice but to talk with the boy. He really didn't want to—he had always been one of the least confrontational people he knew—but Harry was becoming so thin…and he hadn't started off at a proper weight in the first place.

          "I'm glad he wanted to come, at least," Remus said quietly to Moody, who frowned and shook his head.

          "He didn't want to come. I had to pull out the Threat, again."

          Remus sighed briefly, closing his eyes. The Threat had become commonplace, which was surprising, considering how odd it had seemed at first. At the beginning of the summer, the boy had been so terse and contrary—he would say down was up just to argue with you about it. It had been hell getting him to do anything, but then…

          Hermione had simply suggested that, for some reason, Remus's opinion would matter more to Harry than the others, and that if Harry were handled carefully, he might be a little more willing to go along with certain things, if they somehow involved Remus. Remus had been certain she was wrong—why on earth would his thoughts or feelings matter to Harry, who barely knew the man? He certainly liked Harry well enough—probably better than was proper, actually—and he knew Harry liked him, perhaps even thought of him as a friend, but Harry had many friends. And Harry had scads of admirers. Why on earth should he affect the boy differently?

          But one attempt was all it took to convince Lupin that, for whatever reason, Harry would be much more pliable if he himself got involved. They'd had Mundungus tell Harry to write to Ron and Hermione, because they missed him and he'd declined to send any owls. Harry, true to his adolescent obstinacy, outright refused. So then Lupin took a turn, telling Harry that Ron and Hermione were worried, and _he_ was worried, and it would ease his mind an awful lot if he knew Harry was turning to his friends for much needed support, and so on and so forth. And out went an owl with parchment in tow—a sulky and reluctant correspondence, to be sure, but still the boy had done it.

          Lupin just wished he understood _why_ Harry had done it. Perhaps understanding that was the key to a lot of other things about Harry, and a way to help him through some of his problems. There just weren't a lot of possibilities in the werewolf's mind that would have explained that kind of behaviour. Harry could be looking at Remus like a surrogate father—but they had spoken of that almost right at the outset, and Harry insisted he didn't want that; no one could replace Sirius. It was possible that Harry looked up to Remus and wanted to keep on good terms with someone he admired, but Remus felt this was doubtful. After all, he was not much of anything for a teenaged boy to admire—not the way Sirius was—he dressed poorly, and he never did anything flashy or brave. Harry might have behaved that way if he'd had a crush on Remus, but Remus felt like this was an even more unlikely scenario. However strangely warm and tingly he felt at contemplating it. Aside from all the reasons listed that a teenaged boy would not idolize the werewolf, there was also no indication the boy was that way inclined, or interested in older men, or capable of getting a crush on a known werewolf. And he certainly could have done a lot better than Remus, in any case.

           No, there were only two options that seemed remotely feasible in this case—and Remus was thoroughly depressed by both of them. The first was that Sirius had asked Harry to befriend Remus if anything happened to him. He'd already asked Remus to look after Harry, so that was a distinct possibility. The thought that maybe his best friend felt the need to fix his friendships for him because he wouldn't have been able to form his own made him quite angry. Stupid Sirius—if that were the case. The second possibility was that Harry simply was desperate to keep contact with the one person that was part of the lives of the people he'd loved. Remus was the last living person who had been close to Lily, James and Sirius—the last person that hadn't actively attempted to get them killed, of course. This didn't make him angry, but he did feel very…sad, thinking about it. Part of it was perhaps a small ache of disappointment that Harry didn't like Remus for himself. The greater part, however, was simple sorrow that Harry was so insecure as to feel the need to comply with Remus's every whim simply out of fear of losing him otherwise. If he'd known Remus better, he'd have realized that it didn't begin to matter; he would always love Harry, regardless of the boy's actions. But Harry was at an age that didn't take that kind of declaration well. It would not be considered…cool…or whatever the current slang was.

          Suddenly, Harry looked up and caught Remus's eye. The boy flushed several shades of crimson, before ducking his head and finally putting his fork in his mouth. What was _that _about? For the next several minutes, the boy ate studiously, as though that was what he'd been doing all along. Did Harry think he'd been caught in the act of not eating? Yes…that was probably it. Although Remus couldn't fathom why it would cause the boy to flush. Well, at least he was eating. And Remus was going to make damn sure the boy had a good serving of cake. It wasn't the most nutritional thing that he could have fed the youth, but it has strawberries and was made from lots of eggs, and anyway the boy could do with a bit of fat, as well. Remus intended to see Harry tuck away a large portion of it—even if he had to passive-aggressively trick him into it.

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          Harry tried not to groan when Remus plunked a good two pounds of birthday cake onto his plate. _Dear God, how can he expect me to eat all of this? He can't really, can he?_ But one glance at the werewolf's hopeful, expectant face told Harry, oh, yes he did. "Erm. Gosh. This looks…really great, Remus," he said, searching for a tactful truth. "You must have put a lot of work into it."

          "I certainly did," Remus replied, "so I really hope you like it," he said anxiously. Harry managed a half-grin—there just was something so irresistibly…_cute_ about Remus when he was being unsure of himself. How could Harry _not_ produce a genuine smile? Remus returned the smile, his eyes shining with affection. "Happy sweet sixteen, Harry," he said.

          Harry's stomach did a funny flip, and his half-smile widened as he took his seat. He tried not to blush too badly, but it was hard to mind much if he did. A little while later, he actually surprised himself by asking for seconds.

          The next helping, though, he ate much more slowly. His stomach wasn't an empty, aching pit anymore—in fact, he was awfully full. So now he was mostly just enjoying the cool taste of sugary cream. He took a small scoop of whipped cream and ran the spoon back and forth across his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut as he listened to the symphony of cheerful conversation all around him, and he sucked the last bit of cream into his mouth. Happily, he opened his eyes again in order to dip the spoon down, then bring it to his lips, where he rolled his tongue over the dessert, shaving away layers of sweet, sticky heaven. A soft, strangled moan pulled his eyes to the left, where Lupin was sitting across from him.

          The man's eyes were narrowed, his mouth just slightly open. Harry thought he looked…hungry. Harry raised his brows questioningly, and Remus seemed to realize he'd been caught observing the boy. His face burned, and he quickly averted his eyes. Harry felt guilty that he'd enjoyed so much of the cake, and Remus hadn't had any, yet. He went and got another plateful, then sat next to the man on the bench. "Here," he offered earnestly. "Would you like some?"

          Remus's wide eyes traveled from Harry's, down to the cake, and then jerked up again. "Er, no, thank you. I'm allergic to strawberries, actually," he licked his lips nervously.

          "Oh," said Harry with seeming understanding, poking at the fruit on his plate. "It's much worse to want something and not be able to have it, isn't it?" he said regretfully, wishing Lupin had chosen to make something he could share in. He glanced up to see the man staring at him, looking slightly horrified.

          "Yes, quite," was all Remus managed. Then he bolted.

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          Remus lie awake that night, trying not to think about what he couldn't seem to _stop_ thinking about. He'd actually had to rush from the table and hide in the WC that afternoon, in a futile attempt to find peace and quiet and distance from Harry, and most especially time to deal with a nearly painful erection. An erection that had materialized while he was watching James's son—Sirius's godson—eat whipped cream. Whipped cream that had been lovingly provided by Remus himself, and likely Remus's own sly subconscious. Freud would have a lot to say about Remus.

          He groaned and made to roll over, only to recall that he never _had_ managed to deal with his erection, and agonizing over how it had occurred had really only made it worse. God, what was _wrong_ with him? Harry was only a boy! Well, of course he had just told the boy that turning sixteen meant he would be of age—there was that Freudian impulse again—but sixteen was still _just_ sixteen. Hardly more than a child. Certainly, Harry had been through many things most children would never have to deal with, and he was undoubtedly as tough as they came, but still. Just a child, really. With the most gorgeous green eyes Remus had ever seen. And a heart-stopping smile, and cheeks that turned the most appealing shade of pink nearly whenever Remus laid eyes on them. And an amazing ability to hold his own while fighting Voldemort and his supporters. Hold his own…Jesus. Stop it. And an unwavering loyalty to those he loved. And the kind of courage unmatched by the people around him. And the isolation that came from being different, a fame he handled with grace despite the fact that he'd never asked for it, and any number of burdens that would have crippled most wizards twice his age. Come to think of it, it was rather insulting to call him _just_ a boy. With gorgeous green eyes...

          Remus became conscious of the fact that his hand had trailed downward, and he jerked it away from himself as though he'd been stung. Oh, damn. He was going to have to take care of it—it wasn't going away on its own. All right, then. But he wouldn't think about Harry. He wouldn't. He wasn't. He was just… _Dark lashes lowered, casting shadows across emerald windows. Pink, wet, rosebud of a tongue slipping out, tentatively trailing over slick skin. Tight, warm, velvet-soft heat, enough to melt ice cream or anything else._ Shit, he _was_ still thinking about Harry. Too late. Nothing for it, now. Remus shut his eyes and lost himself in the images.

          Even in the dark solitude of Grimmauld place, he held the secret want close and tight. There was no one here, and no one would be arriving, but it didn't matter. Remus stuffed the knuckles of his free hand into his mouth, biting down in hopes of biting back the word he so desperately wanted to moan. Even as he climaxed, his teeth drew blood, which trickled around the almost stifled name.

          "_Harry._"

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          Back at the Dursleys', Harry was awake as well. It was the first time he'd slept in the bed in a long while, and he told himself that the unfamiliarity was the reason he was having trouble dropping off. Yes, he was just unused to it. And he'd eaten a lot more than he had in a while. He could still taste the sweetness on his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. Yeah, all that sugar was probably keeping him awake. Not…anything else. Not the way Lupin had looked at him, while he was eating his ice cream.

          Certainly the memory of those titillating, predatory eyes was not keeping him awake. Nor the recollection of the man's warm hands on his back, as he'd steered Harry out of the kitchen. His inviting smile. His fond touch. The hunger in his eyes. _Those eyes burning into his. Delicate sweetness, the delicious flavor of his former professor against his tongue. Warmth of hands, trailing up his back to tangle in his hair.  Sexy, hoarse voice forming no words at all, but an incoherent moan. _Harry's eyes were squeezed shut. This was so very, very wrong. Lupin would _hate_ him if he found out about this.

          He really wanted to stop, but his hand had already slipped under the covers and grasped himself. He shouldn't be doing this—Remus was much too old, friends with his father and godfather, and could never see him that way. He was smart and sexy and gentle and probably preferred women, and doubtlessly had them hanging off his every word wherever he went. He was beautiful, with those feral-hungry eyes, shy, perfect smile, throaty growl of a voice… Harry shuddered, thrusting himself into his hand. That voice set off primal responses in Harry that had nothing to do with running away or hiding.

          Harry clamped his jaw shut, trying to hold back the groans that were building and building in his chest. He'd never even called the man by his first name before. God, he wanted to know what it would be like. He could almost feel the heat of the Lupin's gaze on his body. The Dursleys were all asleep, but it wouldn't take much to wake them. He closed his lips between his teeth, letting out no noise beyond his desperate panting. He would not say the name. He remembered those eyes, shining with affection. _Happy sweet sixteen, Harry._ Harry bit down hard, tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, even as it seasoned the trembling breath. He could not smother the whimper that escaped in a name.

          "_Remus._"

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          This is my next big one, my next whole enchilada, my next kit-n-caboodle, my next one you've all been waiting for, (should have been waiting for) my next…you get the idea. Now, I am a HUGE Remus/Harry fan, but I appreciate that this is not everyone's cup of tea. Everyone has preferences, and everyone has something that makes them squick. In any case, I will not plan on putting anything extremely graphic on here, because I am a good little girl and follow the rules (some of you who know me well are undoubtedly laughing, and I say shut up.) but I will post it other places, if I even write anything particularly graphic.

          Anyhow, I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far. If so, why not drop me a line? You see that little thing down on the bottom left-hand corner that says 'Review?' That button is your friend. Do not fail to press that button. Failing to press that button and heap glory and song upon my head will result in the immediate destruction of life as we know it. And yes, that _would_ include Jason Isaacs and Daniel Radcliffe, so now you know just what the stakes are. The world is in your hands. I beg you to bear this burden responsibly.

Also, I am looking for someone to Beta Part II for me. It is almost finished, so I am in a bit of a hurry. Something a bit more than thirteen pages in all, I think. I am especially concerned about CONSISTANCY, as I've realized this is not something I pay close enough attention to. I've already had to repost this, because I had ice cream/whipped cream used interchangeably, and had the group indoors/outdoors/apparently the author doesn't give a damn where they are. So, if this is the type of thing you notice, I beg of you, have pity and beta read me! Please! I'll dedicate the fic to you, if you do a decent job!

          Thank you. StarryGazer


	2. Research

TITLE: Research and Development Part II; Research

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right?

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETA: ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: Thanks to—music please—the phenomenal !ShadowPhoenix! for being my beta and idol. I could not be happier with the help she gave me on this one, unless it came with a serving of Jason Isaacs _au natural. _I mean; you couldn't beat that with a stick—or perhaps you could, I don't know, maybe your tastes run that way. Who am I to judge? Where was I? Oh, yes. So, ShadowPhoenix deserves much kowtowing for her most excellent editing.

Also, many of you have bemoaned the lack of good Harry/Remus to be had (I can hardly blame you, darlings, I too think it is a crueler, colder world for need of 'Remarrys' as a couple of people have put it!) And a few people have wondered where to find such things. There is the mortal moon fest, which I often have trouble accessing, wishforthemoon on live journal (this is very good, and showcases the incredible talent of Anise,) but I believe both of these sites would prefer you to be 18 or over, just to let you know up front. I think my favorite Harry/Remus EVER is 'All the Better…' by Bracken, which may be found on the PSA site, or Glassesreflect . net. It's short, but not too OOC, and somehow…I don't know. I just like it best. And if you decry the lack of this ship so much, I encourage you to try writing your own. It's just like falling off a bicycle. However encouraging that is.

Thanks to duath, the perpetually endearing Adele Sparks, Rosethorn, (I wouldn't mind having you look my stuff over as well, do you have an e-mail I can send stuff to?) AmericanWitch, Sweet Mercy, lonlyheart, chocytwo, Serpentiana, Bloody Turquoise Knifes, HecateDeMort, DCFern…and anyone I missed. P.S. Can anyone tell me why suddenly all my fics supposedly have 7 words when I download them?

All right, I promised myself I'd go to bed at a reasonable hour so I could write wonderful prose for you all on the morrow, so I am putting myself to bed. Enjoy the chapter! Starry

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Harry groaned when he heard his uncle call his name the second time. He had to get up. Uncle Vernon was using his 'I'm-completely-pissed-at-you-but-we-have-company-that-can-kick-my-chubby-ass-so-I-won't-quite-show-it' voice. Harry wondered briefly who was there, before slipping his glasses on and yanking a pair of pajamas bottom up. He still had on a white T-shirt from last night, and wasn't even going to bother with his hair. He stumbled downstairs, still drowsy, his face crumpled with sleep.

He quickly became wide awake when he saw Remus standing in the front hall. Shit. Of all the people to walk in when he looked a mess, and of all the members of the Order to be sent _now_, of all times—after Harry'd wanked off last night but before he could grab a shower—it had to be _him_. After he'd wanked off fantasizing about Remus, no less. Shit.

"Er. Shit." He hadn't exactly meant to say it out loud, but really couldn't think of anything else to say.

Luckily, Remus just smiled a little. "I'm sorry to take you by surprise, Harry, but I just received an owl from Albus this morning. Evidently, he's most anxious for you to get going on those Apparating lessons, so he sent me to get started right away." The youth was beautiful, and Remus was both appalled and devoutly grateful he'd been given a glimpse of the boy outside of his robes.

"Erm. Oh." _Brilliant contribution to the conversation, Potter,_ Harry chided himself. _What are you going to do for an encore? Shuffle your feet and hope he thinks it's a tap dance?_ "Um. Are we training here, then?"

"No, we'll actually be heading over to Diagon Alley. Um. I can give you a few minutes to change, though."

"Ah…actually, would you mind if I took a quick shower?" Harry bit his lip; reopening a gash he'd given himself last night.

"That just fine, I think we…goodness, Harry, what did you do to your lip?" Remus came closer, and Harry started backing up the stairs.

"Oh, that. It's nothing—I—bit it. Is all." He was scrambling now, lucky not to land on his butt on the landing, but Remus followed him all the way into his bedroom.

"You bit it? That badly? Here, let me have a look." Insistently, the werewolf took the boy's face in his hands and leaned down in the dim light. Suddenly, they both froze. The smell of Harry's release was thick to Remus's sensitive nose, and he realized why the boy wanted a shower so badly. Also, though, there was the smell of blood. Which did nothing for him, but—to have bitten himself so hard?

Harry trembled under his former professor's strong hands. Lupin's lips were mere inches away, and Harry could feel his soft breath on his face. He had to fight a wild urge to say, 'Please kiss it and make it better.' His eyes fell shut when Lupin came closer.

Remus licked his lips, looking at the thin trail of blood running down Harry's chin. _What—now I'm getting Vampiric urges to go along with my wonderful werewolf drives? Good God, though—why the hell does that seem so erotic?_ He beat down his desire to lean forward and gently capture those poor, ravaged lips with his own, instead running an unsteady thumb along the lower lip. He felt that tender flesh shiver at his touch, and Harry softly pursed his lips, turning Remus's action into a kiss pressed against the digit. Harry paused and looked up at him, with those great, sad, fearful eyes.

The boy jerked back. "Sorry," Harry whispered, shaking his head, his lips pulled in, in shame. He glanced down at the thumb, and his eyes widened. "What happened to your hand?"

Remus flinched, instinctively drawing it behind his back. He'd left it unhealed for one good reason—a reminder, for when he had to visit Harry today. _This is what happens when you lose control,_ it read. _And this could happen to HIM, if you lose control again._ He let out an unsteady sigh. "Accident," he said hoarsely, and was at a loss to comprehend the way Harry's pupils expanded. He remembered that the boy must be handled delicately. It wouldn't do to alienate him by letting him think Remus was angry over the kiss—only to his thumb, at any rate. _And I'll never wash it again,_ he joked to himself. Harry was looking at his feet now, ashamed. Remus _had _to reassure him. _Yeah, right. Any excuse is good enough now, isn't it?_

Remus cut the thought off at its knees and swiftly pulled Harry forward, kissing him lightly.

The man had put a great deal more thought than he would have cared to admit into that kiss. He could not simply ravish the boy's mouth, shouldn't even touch him there—it would be considered inappropriate—would _be_ inappropriate. And he couldn't kiss him on the cheek or the head—Harry might consider that patronizing. Instead, he pressed his lips to the youth's temple, and then pulled Harry's hand up, and grazed the knuckles with his lips. He couldn't seem to stop. He turned Harry's hand over, and kissed the palm, trailing a finger down the boy's life line. "I'm not at all angry with you," he whispered.

Harry shuddered with pleasure. That voice, those hands—on his palm! who _knew_ his palm was that sensitive! and those lips! Those lips had never touched him before. He felt his body react to the sensory experience, and he started to become panicky. He dimly heard Lupin say, "Go take your shower. I'll wait here," before he rushed off to get cleaned off—_and jerked off, as well_, Harry supposed, discomfited.

Lupin watched the boy grab some clean clothes and hasten out of the room. _He's in quite the hurry to get away from me, isn't he?_ he thought sadly. _Guess I overdid it._ _Well, you great lump, that'll teach you to keep your lips to yourself._ He sat forlornly on the bed, tapping his fingers together and trying to pretend he didn't feel sorry for himself. Sighing, he glanced down and saw whitish streaks on the sheets. Blushing a little, he pulled the covers up over them.

_ Well,_ he mused ruefully, _at least you know he wasn't doing that with someone else._ He grimaced a little at the unworthy thought. After all, Harry deserved happiness as much as anyone. Certainly, he deserved it far more than Lupin did.

Remus squirmed a little, as a mental picture of Harry engaged in last night's activities popped into his head. It struck him that the boy had likely been occupied doing the same thing he himself had done, and probably around the same time. He shifted uncomfortably on the mattress again, aware that he was becoming aroused. Well, with a werewolf's heightened sense of smell, the perfume of sexual activity almost made it impossible _not_ to be. He tried to tell himself that _this_, at least, was not his fault.

And since it was the smell of Harry, and Harry had done it, and this was Harry's room…could he really help imagining Harry as he was last night? Head thrown back against the mattress…eyes half-closed with lust, as he fantasized about…well; who knows what he imagined—not Remus, certainly—lips parted, breath coming fast and sharp through his mouth…sucked in past his teeth, over his tongue and down his throat, before being exhaled quickly once aga—

"Professor Lupin?" Harry was in the doorway, his lean chest bare and glistening.

Remus quickly moved his hand out of his lap and stood jerkily. "Erm. Yes? Ah—all—sh—showered, then? Ready to go?" He was rattled—God, there was no way the boy could miss that fact—and his voice was all scratchy again. He swallowed frantically a couple of times, trying to clear the coarseness away.

Harry blinked. _God, that VOICE again. Why does he have to DO that to me?_ He fervently desired to be back in the shower, and wished he'd just said 'to hell with it' and got it off, instead of hurrying back so Remus would not get too bored. Or notice that Harry'd already got it off once recently—on the bed. "Um, yeah, sure. Just about, anyhow. I need a different shirt, though; this one's gotten too small." He held up the offending piece of clothing. Trying to ground himself in reality, Harry shook his head, and droplets of water flew, some of them spattering against Remus, who looked stunned. "Gosh, I'm sorry!"

_ He comes out of the bathroom, half naked and dripping wet, and thinks I could become the LEAST bit upset with him for making me a part of his male supermodel shaking-the-water-out-of-his-hair impression?_ "Erk. Ah. No problem, Harry. Now. If you'd like to pull out your Firebolt, I'll hit you with the Disillusionment Charm and we'll be in business!"

"You mean—we're _flying_ to Diagon Alley?" Harry couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. Remus smiled at him—that same sweet smile that he'd given Harry the day before, and it caused the same funny flip in Harry's stomach.

"Yes, we'll be flying. I thought you might appreciate a chance to get in the air again." Remus was enormously pleased that he'd been able to arrange to give Harry this, at least. The youth was obviously thrilled at the prospect of getting off the ground again. "But," he warned seriously, "you'll have to promise to stay right by my side, Harry."

It should have made him feel resentful; the idea that he was a child that needed looking after, but Harry had a difficult time working up any real ire over it. Close to Remus. As close as he liked. He tried to look mildly defiant, but relatively indifferent as he shrugged. "Yeah, all right. Whatever."

Remus's smile faltered a little. _Uh oh,_ he thought. _Is Mister Adolescent Antagonism paying us a visit this early?_ He frowned concernedly at the boy, who saw his expression and immediately went pink.

"Er. Sorry. I mean; I don't mind being close to you—ah _flying_ close to you—next to you. Erm. You know. Sorry." Harry ducked his head.

Remus had to hold back a sigh. He wished Harry wouldn't do this to himself. All this business of turning on the 'hit the ground on his knees and beg forgiveness' act when Remus got the slightest hint of being upset was going to have to go. He couldn't _live _like this; sure, he was more than capable of manipulating Sirius and even, at times, James with prods at their guilty consciences, but Harry was different. Harry was responsible—at least; Harry was responsible most of the time. Some of the time. Far more often than the Marauders had been, at any rate. Harry had enough guilt. What he needed was a little fun.

Remus slung an arm around the boy's shoulders, pushing him out the door. Ordinarily, as a werewolf, he had never learned to be comfortable about touching other people—or had learned, rather, that other people were uncomfortable about touching him. But Harry needed reassurance, and Remus was at a loss over how to give it any other way. "C'mon, then," he told the teen mildly. "Let's hit the skies, shall we?" He was rewarded by one of Harry's more brilliant smiles.

"Man, I can't believe I'm gonna have to be tethered to you all the way to London," Harry said with mock aggravation. "When I could fly loops around you! I could probably be there and back by the time you got off the ground," he added, with fine braggadocio. He glanced at the werewolf, giving him a shy, teasing grin.

Lupin's eyes shone with good humor as he looked at the boy. "Oh, you think you're that good, do you, little red corvette?" The reference, of course, went right over Harry's head, which was what Remus intended anyway. He was tremendously relieved that Harry felt comfortable enough to joke, and happy enough, as well. "Anyhow, I might not be a screaming eagle, but I'll bet I can go plenty fast for a lightweight like yourself."

"Oh, really?" Harry responded, green eyes gleaming. "Well, I'll just take that bet! And if you lose…" he trailed off, scrunching up his nose in thought.

"Don't bother making your pretty little head hurt," Remus told him dryly, "the question won't even arise. On the other hand, if I _win_, I think I'll make you do my laundry for the next few months." Dimly, he wondered what was getting into him; he was teasing, yes, that was fine—but it was precious close to flirting, now, and that wouldn't do at all.

"Well, if _I_ win, I'm gonna make you spend every spare moment of your time away from your _work_," Harry said in a way that left no doubt as to what he was talking about, "here, with _me_, _and_ my awful family, for the next few months. You'll see how it feels to die of boredom."

Harry's uncle glared at this, as they passed by him. He opened his mouth as if to say something—likely nasty—but Lupin spoke before he could manage to get anything out. "Oh, I don't think boredom can kill werewolves," he responded absently, causing the man to blanch and snap his mouth shut. "Silver, yes, and fire…but I'm afraid boredom just wouldn't do it; although it would be a _trial_, certainly," he added evenly, glancing over his shoulder at the homeowner. He rarely played the werewolf card; Harry was just about the only thing that warranted it, anymore.

As they stood in the front hallway, and Remus was getting ready to put the Disillusionment Charm on his young charge, he held his arm around Harry for just a moment longer, as he looked over the boy's head, and gave Vernon Dursley one very wickedly threatening smile.

"Ready?" Harry queried, tilting his head back to look up at him.

"Absolutely," Remus replied innocently, mild-mannered professor once more.

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Harry landed lightly in front of the Leaky Cauldron, grinning broadly. Remus touched down beside him and ushered him inside, past the patrons and into the alley, before taking off the Charm. He was still a bit out of breath, but managed to give Harry an amused, disgruntled look as he tapped the brick and made ready their entrance into the magical world.

Harry couldn't help having a little fun at Remus's expense. Especially if he really could trap the man in his bedroom for a good portion of the next few months—talk about sweetening the deal! "'Slow down!' he says. 'I'm starting to get motion-sickness, hurtling along like this,' he says!" Harry snickered a little at Remus's twisted smile.

"Stop that," the man ordered. "It's not nice to make fun of elderly werewolves just because they can't keep up with you. You'll be old too, someday."

"You're not 'elderly,'" Harry insisted, following the man down the street. "And I'm never going to get old." It sounded for a moment as though he meant it as a joke, but then Remus noticed his face stiffen, and he repeated softly, "I'm never going to get old."

"That's not true, Harry," Remus told him urgently. The boy didn't answer, and the man grabbed his shoulders and spun him round to face him. "Harry, that _isn't true_," he growled. He had to fight the urge to shake the other wizard, to find a way to make him see sense. "I promise, Harry. You'll make it. I'll do whatever it takes, but you'll make it."

Harry was bewildered by his own wildly vacillating emotions. To think that just a short while ago, he had been over the moon, nearly pressed against Remus's side, racing through the air with the wind on his face—and now he was almost completely depressed, or would be, if Lupin hadn't had both hands tight on his upper arms. And wasn't growling at him. _Damn teenage hormones and moods and…everything! _he fumed. He felt, deep down, that a werewolf's growl should _not_, as a general rule, give anyone an instant hard-on. There _had_ to be something wrong with him! And he didn't _want_ to think about Voldemort now, of all times! Thinking of Voldemort led to thinking about Sirius and…

Remus could _see_ Harry's mood darken. It was obvious by the way his dark brows lowered, and a small, pouting frown formed on those lovely lips. The scintillating jade eyes became merely jaded, losing their sparkle and warmth, and turning hard and distant. Remus could practically see the boy's soul withdraw into itself. "Here, Harry," he muttered, desperately trying to think of a way to distract the boy. "Let's head over to the bookstore; Hermione is supposed to meet us there."

This did not have quite the effect Remus had intended. Harry's brooding merely switched topics. He wasn't particularly up to pretending to match Hermione's enthusiasm—not to mention her quick thinking. Why was she here, anyway? His face must have shown at least part of this, because Lupin answered without being asked.

"She's going to help you train to Apparate. She's fairly experienced, but still new enough at it to understand most difficulties you might encounter. After all, she very recently encountered most of them herself," Lupin informed him.

"I'm surprised she didn't get it perfect the very first time," Harry muttered sullenly, drawing a reproving glance from his…_guess he would be my_ _GUARDIAN, for the moment_, he thought sourly. He wasn't certain why suddenly he felt so irritated. It was just…it wasn't fair that Hermione was horning in on his time with Lupin. Who was probably straight and not interested, anyway. And probably thought of him as a surrogate son or something. Harry silently cursed the day he was born.

"Hi, Harry!" Hermione said brightly when they found her, but wisely refrained from hugging her fellow student. Harry had a face like a thundercloud, and Hermione seemed to realize it would be best if she tried not to annoy him. "Gosh, do we have to leave already? I just found the most fascinating book and—"

"_Later,_ Hermione," Harry told her stiffly.

Lupin attempted a smile, and was put off by the way Harry's face darkened further. "We'll come back after the lesson, how's that? I need to pick up a book on advanced thaumaturgical oils, at any rate. _And_ the oils themselves, if we have time."

Hermione beamed, pretending not to notice Harry's face. "Oh, good," was all she said.

"Look, isn't this _dangerous_?" Harry asked as they wound their way through the street. "What if someone sees me here? What if someone wants to kill me? We can't practice this right out in the open, can we?" he wondered, puzzled.

"No, you're quite right about that. I'll have to explain when we get there—there are too many people about, today. It _was_ clever of you to question it—but I'll have to ask you to keep quiet until I give the nod. All right?" Remus hated to do it, but he gave Harry an anxious look, and Harry nodded.

Harry, for once, had not so much noticed the look as the comment on his cleverness, and he found he was feeling suddenly much better about the whole ordeal. "You didn't think to ask that, did you?" he questioned Hermione in an undertone.

The girl pinched her lips before answering. "Well. I trusted they had all of that under control. And after all, it's hardly the sort of thing you ask about when you're in public," she hissed at him.

Harry only grinned. She hadn't thought to ask. Hermione looked cross about his smile for a moment, but then she shook her head and smiled back. She really was trying very hard to keep him in a good mood.

To Harry's perplexity, Remus led the students right into Gringotts Bank. He was about to ask, 'What are we doing _here_?' but then seemed to think better of it, shutting his mouth. This caused Remus to smile and nod almost rewardingly at him, and Harry felt heat creep into his cheeks. He had a sudden urge to touch the man, to be closer to him, and he hurried to walk by Lupin's side. Harry calculatedly brushed his hand against Lupin's at the first opportunity. He wasn't sure how Lupin would react to that—he always seemed so reluctant to touch people—but the man merely gave him another charming smile before leading him up to the counter.

Privately, Lupin was gratified by Harry's touch. He had been worried that, after the incident this morning, the boy would be uncomfortable around him. He hadn't intended to get carried away with the kisses; it was only that physical affection was so rare in the werewolf's world that he sometimes overdid it when given an opening.

The goblin at the counter had orange eyes, and gave them a sharp look. "Do you have your key?" he asked them, but instead of a key, Lupin produced a gold medallion.

"Actually, we need to make a deposit," the werewolf stated offhandedly, sliding the metal into the goblin's long fingers.

The bank worker scrutinized the medallion extensively before glancing up at the man, then gazing at him intently for a moment. He waved one of those long, bony fingers in the air, gesturing someone to come over. "Leftscratch," he called.

When a shorter, squatter goblin arrived, the one at the counter smiled. "Please take this party downstairs in order to make their deposit," he said in a clipped voice, and the second goblin nodded and led the way.

They entered what Harry had begun to think of as 'the mine shaft,' and clambered into a cart. Hermione looked totally composed, and Harry was, for his part, rather excited. He'd never been on a roller coaster or even to an amusement park, but he imagined that whizzing along a narrow track beneath Gringotts was probably a similar experience. He'd always enjoyed it. Remus was watching Harry, and Harry thought he looked slightly bemused.

The cart slowed to a stop outside a set of iron double doors, outside of which stood one sneering Severus Snape. When they'd all tumbled out of the cart on unsteady legs, Remus nodded to his fellow Order member, who merely looked disdainful. "Thanks for the help, Professor Snape," Remus said quietly. "You can tell them that everything went as planned."

"Very well. 'Idiot enterprise proceeding smashingly.' Don't worry. I'll make a note of it. Do not forget about tomorrow," he added, almost snapping the words. "Recall that it will likely be even less pleasant than last time. Since I'm forced to accommodate you in the matter, the very _least_ you could do is attempt to arrive on time, for once. And if you are not, you shall not find me waiting." Sniffing a little, he Disapparated with a pop.

"What did he mean?" Hermione asked curiously, brown eyes glittering.

"It's nothing you need worry about," Lupin responded dismissively. "It just has to do with the potion Severus has been good enough to supply me with, once again. He really is a talented potions maker."

"He's a bloody wanker," Harry grumbled, getting a disapproving look from Hermione. "Well, he _is_. And he just totally disrespected Professor Lupin," he pointed out.

"I'm not really your professor anymore," Remus responded mildly, feeling just slightly pleased that Harry felt at all offended on his behalf. It had been too long since anyone cared about him that much.

"You pretty much are, at least at the moment," Harry pointed out reasonably.

Remus couldn't find anything to argue that with, so he simply smiled and turned to the goblin. "Leftscratch, if you would be so kind as to open the doors for us," he entreated, and the olive-skinned creature nodded.

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"All right," Hermione jumped in as soon as the doors swung shut, leaving the goblin waiting with the cart, and the trio in relative privacy, "what's going on? Why are we in Gringotts, of all places?"

"I thought you said you trusted them to have everything under control," Harry murmured as he walked past her. They were in a huge vault—the place was so massive, it must have started off as just a natural cavern. There were stalagtites and stalagmites, and a drip, drip, dripping came from the ceiling.

"We wanted a place that was secluded and safe. And no one has ever managed to steal anything from Gringotts before, so I doubt they'll manage to steal Harry," Remus informed the girl.

"Yes, but…Voldemort did break _into _Gringotts once, even if he didn't actually steal anything," she pointed out. "Are you sure this is enough of a precaution?"

"_Hermione,_" moaned Harry. "Would you _please_ stop badgering Lupin? I'm sure he knows what he's doing!"

Lupin merely smiled. "We are taking other precautions," he told her. "There are extra wards, spells, and enchantments, no less than three other members of the Order are patrolling both the bank and the rest of Diagon Alley, and Dumbledore has a few other tricks up his sleeve as well. And no, I'm not about to tell you what they are. And now, since we are doing this on other wizards' time, I suggest we get cracking!" he rubbed his hands together, looking just a little excited.

Harry grinned. "Glad to be teaching again?"

Remus ducked his head a little. "Well. To be honest, I _did_ rather miss it," he admitted.

"Then I'm glad to have you teaching me again," Harry said softly. "I missed you, too." Lupinarched a brow at that, and Harry cleared his throat. "Uh. That is—well, _you_ know. I wasn't making it up when I said you were the best Defense teacher we ever had. I'm really glad to be working with you again," he continued earnestly.

Lupin fought the smile that was spreading across his face, but only had partial success. "Thank you, Harry."

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After practicing for nearly three hours, Harry was exhausted—but somehow invigorated. Apparating was much harder than it looked, but it was still very rewarding. After listening to Lupin and Hermione lecture about theory and possible problems for nearly an hour, Harry had become irked and demanded the chance to try it himself. And he'd done it. The first time. Perfectly. Of course, every time _after _that he'd screwed up in some small way or other, but he was of the opinion it was totally worth it—for the look on Hermione's face. And it was really neat to start out at one spot and then instantly arrive at another. Of course, he never got to go very far—a few feet were the standard for beginners.

_Plus_, Lupin had clapped his arms around him, telling Harry how proud he was and how wonderful it was—which sent Harry right up to cloud nine. And he'd announced afterwards, "All right. Now back to Flourish and Blotts, to get that book and unwind a bit in general," which cheered the shocked Hermione quite a bit. Then, unfortunately, Lupin had to go and mention Sirius and James, and how proud they would be, and that made Harry feel guilty and resentful, respectively. He wasn't certain when he'd begun to resent his own father, but it was happening more and more often, recently. He suspected that a good bit of it was the small fact that he looked so _remarkably_ like his father. Dumbledore had warned him he'd tire of that—and he had. Mostly, he felt, because if Remus saw him as a little carbon copy of James Potter, he could never be interested in Harry. Not that he would, anyway. But just in case. Still. Unfair.

When they arrived at the bookshop, Hermione dove into the stacks with all the passion of a scuba aficionado with permission to visit the _Bismarck_. Lupin went to ask the shopkeeper for his book, and Harry wandered around, waiting on his companions.

Harry found an area of tomes on the subject of Dark Creatures, and delved in with rather more interest than usual. This was what Lupin had taught them, and he'd made it so interesting that Harry had no trouble becoming absorbed in the subject once more. He picked up book after book, quickly finding himself so fascinated that he neither knew nor cared what the others were doing. After re-shelving a slim volume on Mermaids, his roaming fingertips skittered across the gold embossing of a large work titled _The World of Werewolves_, and he tugged it free, feeling intensely curious.

He had never gotten as far as werewolves in class—didn't even have the desire to do so. He didn't object to knowing more in general, but the idea of sitting among his classmates, as they all wrote down Remus Lupin's lupine traits, as if he was some sort of interesting project…it just seemed wrong. Now, though, he found himself wondering, _What WERE some of the more distinguishing characteristics of a werewolf? How many of them were there? Were they any closer to finding a cure? Did werewolves share qualities outside of form, like…allergies, or likes and dislikes…sexual appetites…?_

He was flipping through the book, completely absorbed, when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, which made him jump. "I'm sorry, Harry; I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know I've found my book, so now we're just waiting on Hermione."

"Pull out a cot and set your alarm for 'Next Century,' then," Harry muttered, flipping a page.

Remus laughed quietly. "She won't be able to take _that_ long," he told the boy. "Her parents will arrive to pick her up, shortly. I know it's a bit of an inconvenience, but I feel strongly that we should stay until we know she's been safely returned to their care."

"Mmm," Harry responded, feeling only a slight flaring of envy that Remus 'felt so strongly' about taking care of Hermione. Here was a picture of a werewolf transforming. It was lurid in its detail, but it also pretty well followed his own memory of the night he'd seen Remus transform.

"Good book, is it?" Remus inquired ironically as the poor bastard on the page went through the horrific conversion again and again.

Harry blushed and quickly turned the page as he realized the werewolf was starting to lean over his shoulder. The next chapter was so astounding Harry completely forgot his embarrassment. "Oh, wow! Would you look at this," he said to Lupin in a hushed voice, "_Werewolves and Animagi_, _a Symbiotic Relationship._ It talks about how an Animagus can be beneficial when a werewolf is in its lupine state! Just like Dad and Sirius did!"

Remus smiled at Harry and tilted the book so he could see the cover. "Ah, yes. Ignatius Ignobal. I believe this is the book that gave them the idea, actually. Or was it that they saw this segment in some other book?... I can't quite recall, at the moment."

"Wow. Really? This was what they read that made them want to become Animagi? This must be a really great book." He looked longingly at the cover. Why hadn't he thought to get some money out while he was at Gringotts? He'd already finished his course books. It would have been great to have some other kind of summer reading—and learn more about Remus at the same time.

Harry's desire must have shown on his face, because Lupin said, "If you want it that badly, I'll buy it for you." Harry looked up in disbelief, and the man smiled.

"You—" _You can't buy this for me; you can't afford it. If you have the extra money, I'd rather you bought yourself some new clothes. A nice, silky shirt that you left unbuttoned partway down your chest, for preference. _"Er, you don't have to do that. Really. I don't want you to spend money like that just to keep me entertained."

Lupin was smiling and disagreeing at the same time, shaking his head. "I didn't get you anything for your birthday—"

"You made that behemoth birthday cake for me, that's more than enough—"

"Then I'll do it to reward you for your hard work today. You did a fantastic job. You father would have been proud—_he_ would have rewarded you, I'm certain of that."

Harry glowered. "_Don't_ do it because that's what he would do. If you're going to do it, do it because _you_ want to do it. I want _Remus Lupin_ giving it to me, and I don't want my father involved, understood? I don't want you trying to fill his shoes. That's not fair to either of us."

Remus bit the inside of his cheek hard, trying to keep from smiling. "All right. You're absolutely right; it was inconsiderate of me to say that. Since _Remus Lupin_ is more than a little proud of you, and _Remus Lupin_ would like to show his friendship, and since _Remus Lupin_ does not want you to be bored all summer, and especially since _Remus Lupin_ finds it gratifying that you should have an interest in that particular subject, I, _Remus Lupin_, am going to purchase that book for you." He squeezed the youth's shoulder gently.

Harry gave him a crooked grin. "All right," he kept his eyes lowered. "I take it you think it's a good book, then?"

Remus shrugged, seating himself in an armchair arranged nearby for the patrons' use. Harry followed him and perched on the arm. "It's…an important book. It's not completely accurate, though. You see, Ignatius himself was not a werewolf, so he wasn't writing from firsthand experience. He _was_, however—and for whatever reason—obsessed with werewolves, so he researched the topic meticulously and put every bit of information he came across into that monster work. It was the first book ever written solely about werewolves, and added quite a bit to the intelligence—and misinformation—that people take for granted today."

"It was the first?" Harry's face fell. He'd been hoping for something detailing current developments in researching a cure. Oh, well. This should be interesting, at least. He scanned through the pages as they awaited Hermione. "Wow. _A Werewolf mates for life,_" he read. "Is that true?" his eyes slid sideways to see the man flipping through his own book, a wry smile on his face.

"Haven't the foggiest," he mumbled. He sounded just a little bit awkward, so Harry let the subject drop.

_Mate_. _What a sexy, romantic idea,_ he thought. Harry read on. There was all sorts of stuff about marking and possessiveness and territory and sex and the need to be near one's mate, and Harry was absolutely enthralled. Hermione even had to reach over and shake him, saying, "My parents are here, Harry. Didn't you hear me? We're ready to pay, now."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, all right." Harry tore his eyes away from a drawing of one man (the werewolf) licking another (the mate) behind his ear. _They were both men._ Harry was thrilled and mortified. He _should not_ think of Lupin that way. But, at the same time, he _could not_ help it. He _wanted _that. He wanted to be Lupin's mate. Badly. He clutched the book to his chest, biting his sore lip. He was going to have to stop obsessing over this, really. It couldn't do any good.

"Gosh, Harry, I've never seen you so engrossed in a book before!" Hermione said to him. "It must be really great. Can I borrow it when you're done?"

"Erm. Yeah, maybe," Harry replied noncommittally. He felt distinctly uncomfortable at the idea of his friend perusing the same pages that had turned him on so much. He nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and after they'd all paid for their purchases, allowed Hermione to give him a quick hug goodbye. "Thanks for your help today."

She smiled as though he was a pet dog that had finally gotten 'stay' down correctly. "I'm always around if you need help, Harry," she told him. "Don't forget that. Anyway, next time Ron will take a turn. Try not to let him get stuck in any more rocks, all right? He did the first time, you know."

Harry laughed and promised, and the friends parted ways.

As he waited for Remus outside of the Apothecary, Harry kept going over the book in his head. He kept seeing that illustration of the two men. It was a wizards illustration, so they kept moving…the werewolf would work his way down the other man's neck, causing his mate to throw his head back in ecstasy. Well, it had looked to Harry like he'd been enjoying it, at any rate. He felt like the page was burning a hole in the book, or the book was burning hot under his arm. He felt guilty and excited, and was sure that if anyone looked at him, they would be immediately suspicious.

"All right, Green Eyes?" Harry suppressed a giggle as Remus led him back towards the Leaky Cauldron. The man pulled his wand out, ready to cast the Disillusionment Charm again.

Out of the blue, Harry heard someone yell, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" and watched with shock as Remus stiffened and pitched forward. He instinctively tried to catch the man, and didn't even hear the curse that hit him.

Remus was in Harry's arms, but that was the _only_ thing right in Harry's world. He held desperately onto the werewolf as everything went black.

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I apologize for overusing the Harry-jealous-of-Hermione bit, but it's useful. Anyway, the next bit is about to get _really_ cliché. But it shall have a twist, of course. Next, our brave heroes languish in the hands of their enemies.

Oh, yes, and I wanted to thank all of you profusely for reviewing, it's terribly encouraging, you know. Oh, and thank you, Lunadeath, for pointing out the errors in the last chap. I will fix both…when I am awake again.

Oh, oh! Does anybody want to know my favorite line from this chapter? I'm going to tell you anyhow: 'I want _Remus Lupin_ giving it to me…' (Laughs) Sorry, but I liked it. I thought it was subtle. All right, tomorrow I promise I shall write like the wind! Goodnight!

Starry__


	3. Development

TITLE: Research and Development Part III; Development

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: R—if you want the NC17 version, check on Adult Fan Fiction .net, the direct link (which may or may not show up here) is http:adultfan.nexcess . net/aff/authors.php?no=20461.

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? The werewolf plot device takes affect.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETA: ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: The glorious ShadowPhoenix helped me terrifically with this chapter, in part just by being my beta, but also through her unwavering support and encouragement. (I took out the bit about the booze, btw.) She also contributed two lines to this chapter, I'll make note of which at the end, so as not to spoil anything for the average reader. That is also where you will find other individual thanks.

DEDICATIONS: This chapter is dedicated to ShadowPhoenix, for all her monumental assistance and friendship, which has already enriched my life so much.

Also, this chapter is dedicated to all the fine storytellers who've made use of the 'werewolf plot device,' or the 'werewolf mates for life' routine. It's brilliant, and you're brilliant, and I've spent many entertaining hours watching Remus be irrevocably attached to one character or another, which is an excellent use of my time. If I've ripped anyone off, I humbly apologize; this was meant to be a tribute/parody, and I wanted to use everything I could find on werewolf mating. I tried to make everything pretty original, but it's always hard to tell. At the very least, I would not hesitate to make a small list of authors here whose works inspired this, if any feel like he or she ought to get some credit.

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Part 3: Development

          When someone finally took the spell off of Remus Lupin, it was already after nightfall. He and Harry had been snatched away by Death Eaters, taken God-only-knew where, and dragged down into what seemed to be the bowels of the earth. They were unceremoniously dumped in a small, dank room, and left there, just as they were, for hours.

          Lupin could just make out Harry's form, lying where it had fallen. Remus, himself, could not move for the curse was holding him perfectly motionless, except for his eyes…which he tried to keep from trailing towards the boy too often. Was Harry even alive? He knew what spell he'd been hit with, but he wasn't certain what had felled the younger wizard. _Oh, God, please let him be alive,_ he begged, in the echoing silence of his head. _Please, please don't take him, too._

          Eventually, a heavy Death Eater came through the door, set a tray on the floor, and aimed a countercurse at Remus. Then, to the werewolf's inexpressible relief, he aimed one at Harry, as well. Remus stayed carefully still and the Death Eater backed out into the corridor and _snicked_ the lock on the door, sniggering softly.

          Once the man was gone, Remus managed to gain his hands and knees and make his way to the youth's sprawled body. Harry's eyes were still shut, but he was breathing. Remus whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around the slender frame, cradling Harry's head in his lap. He looked around the cell—he supposed it was a cell of sorts—and took inventory. There was a stark light in the ceiling, a small bathroom off to the side, and a cot. That was it, except for Harry and Remus and what they'd come in with. And that amounted to next to nothing; a book on werewolves, which had been tossed in amongst loud laughter, a vial of oil that was the base of many potions, their robes and clothing…and that was all. Their wands had been taken, of course.

          Remus gently brushed his hand over Harry's cheek. The Order would have realized within moments that something had gone wrong, so they should be looking for them. He hoped they'd be able to locate them soon. If not…he didn't like to follow the thought to its only logical conclusion. "Harry?" he murmured softly, patting the boy's shoulder. "Harry, can you hear me?" Harry groaned a little, but did not wake. Remus didn't want to force him up; what would be the point? So Harry could feel frightened as well? He was happy as he was. Remus wouldn't purposely change the status quo—not yet, at any rate.

          He found himself watching the youth as he slept. His eyes traced the scar on the forehead, the curve of Harry's nose, those elegant, innocent brows. Such a gamine the boy was. Treading close to the line, Remus allowed himself to run his fingertip along Harry's high cheekbones, and dark lashes fluttered just a little, before becoming settled into sleep again. Too close. Remus stared at Harry's much abused bottom lip again, feeling the warmth in his lap. _Far_ too close. Panting a little, he moved the cloak so he could bundle it up a bit and move it under Harry's head.

          He carefully rose with the youth in his arms, and placed Harry on the cot. Then he sat on the floor, scooted as far away as possible, and took up the werewolf book to distract himself.

          Unfortunately, it wasn't long at all before he found the same picture that had caught Harry's attention, and he stared at it in exasperation. This wasn't distracting at all! _Well, it is—so long as you meant it was distracting from the overall 'we're probably going to die' problem,_ he conceded to himself. But it certainly didn't help anything else. Maybe if he ignored the pictures and focused on the words. Yes, that's it. Words were wonderful, and Remus had learned at a young age that reading could solve pretty much anything. He'd just lose himself in the book, that's all.

          _A werewolf must claim its mate through a series of actions, each of which is crucial to forming the unbreakable bond. One act which must be completed is the mark, which must be made in human form (to prevent spreading the lycanthropy), and is done by biting the flesh of the chosen mate hard enough to break skin. _Well, so far, so good. No pictures on this page, at least. Remus skimmed along a little further. _The werewolf and its mate must engage in sexual intercourse. _Um. Not so good. His eyes strayed to the sleeping form, which had, at some point during the last several minutes, cast off both its own and Lupin's cloaks, and was arrayed in a very alluring pose, with one leg hanging provocatively off the cot. Remus swallowed hard, forcing his eyes back to the book. Only taking a word in here and there, he made it to the bottom of the page. _…shared bodily fluid completes the bond… conscientious of the fact…lycanthropy is only contagious while a werewolf is in its lupine form…substantive amounts of saliva, blood, and semen must be shared…occasionally the fluid is ingested, resulting in…_Remus let out a whimper, shifting his position on the floor. He quickly flipped the page. _Good grief! This isn't helpful at all!_  What kind of self-respecting supposedly educational book contained illustrations like _that_? And why in the world did they have to choose the bit about semen to illustrate? He adjusted his robes slightly, wishing he were dead. Why was God punishing him like this? What on earth had he done to merit being locked in a room with an unconscious beauty like Harry with nothing but a pocket of oil and a book of porn?

          Harry's eyes fluttered open. There was a bright light overhead, but he felt chilled and damp. A thwacking sound came from his left, and he turned his head a bit. "Professor Lupin? Why are you hitting yourself in the head with my book?" he asked, bewildered.

          Whimpering more loudly now, the whimper threatening to turn into a moan of despair, Remus smacked the heavy book into his forehead a couple more times, hoping to knock some sense back into himself. Finally, he lowered the volume and peered guiltily over it. "I'm sorry, Harry." The boy could take that any way he wished; it was the perfect truth in any case.

          Harry sat up, blinking a little. "Where are we?"

          Remus shrugged dispiritedly. "I've really no idea."

          Harry began to get nervous. Remus was always the calm one, the rational one. If he was upset, then they must be in an awful lot of trouble. Why did it have to be Remus? If they hadn't wanted Harry, Remus wouldn't be here. If something happened to Remus, it would be all Harry's fault. "It was Death Eaters, wasn't it?" he whispered. "They caught us."

          Remus nodded, then looked up to see the blank fear on the boy's face. God, his eyes seemed so old when he looked like that. No one that age should ever have such a look of resigned terror. No one that age should have eyes filled with things they shouldn't have even known, and contain the perfect awareness that they could not un-know them. He found himself beside Harry, arms wrapped around the youth, before he even realized what he was doing. "It's all right," he muttered, needing urgently to reassure the young Gryffindor. "I won't let anything hurt you." He hated himself. He was fully aware he was making promises he couldn't keep, that he was being rash and emotional. That had always been Sirius's role, not Remus's.

          Harry let out a long, shaky breath against Remus's chest, steadying himself. The terror and guilt began to abate, as he breathed in the masculine, musky scent of his tutor. Instinctively, Harry moved closer, burrowing his face into Remus's chest. He could feel scratchy hair beneath the thin shirt, and he shuddered with sudden arousal.

          Remus, who read this movement as fear, roughly held the boy tighter. "Nothing will hurt you, I promise," he repeated. "I'm here, Harry. We'll be all right. Professor Dumbledore and the others already know we're gone. They're out looking for us right now. They'll find us." He felt warm breath through his shirt, and the blood begin rushing through his body, heating him from ears to fingertips. _Oh, God. It shouldn't feel this good to hold somebody. Particularly when that somebody is the child of a long dead childhood friend._ He felt Harry's arms creep shyly around his waist, looking for acceptance. Shutting his eyes, Remus cut off his tortured thoughts, determined to simply _be_, without agonizing. He ran his hands lightly up and down Harry's back, even going so far as to smooth down that scruffy head of hair. "It's all right, Green Eyes," Remus crooned quietly.

          Harry had gone from Hell to Heaven in a matter of moments. Remus was touching him. Remus was _holding _him. He didn't care if Remus meant it like a parent or a lover or a friend, because nobody had _ever_ held him like that before. Harry could never remember anyone making him feel this way—like he was needed, and wanted, and loved. And safe. God, the only person he'd ever felt this safe with was a werewolf. He wondered what that said about his common sense.

          For a long, long time, they stayed that way; they leaned into one another and reveled in each other's arms. Harry was calmed by the steady thud of Lupin's heart, and Lupin was touched by Harry's innocent faith in him.

          After sitting that way so long that his back began to cramp, Harry reluctantly pulled away. Lupin dropped his hands to his sides at once. Harry tried to ignore the churning regret in his stomach, pointing at the tray on the floor. "What's that?" he asked.

           "I'd be willing to bet it's food of some kind," Remus told him, "but I have extreme doubts as to whether it's safe to eat."

          Harry sighed. "So…what do we do?"

          _How about getting a shag in before they kill us? _Remus's over-stimulated brain suggested hopefully. He winced, smothering the thought. He had to get control of himself. Remus glanced around the room. There was a small window, high up near the ceiling, but it had a thick bar right across it and he knew neither one of them would fit through it. He jiggled the door a bit, but of course it didn't give at all. He and Harry explored the room carefully, looking for anything that might give them an edge. They were severely disappointed. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said once again. "Give me a bit of time to think it over, would you?" He wanted to at least give the impression that he'd be able to come up with a clever scheme.

           "All right," Harry said agreeably. "I'll just…sit for a bit and read. I'll give you some quiet, and it'll take my mind off of things. Okay?"

           "Sure, Harry."

          Unfortunately, watching those wide, luminous eyes trail over the pages, while that sweet little mouth moved to form the words, and the wet tip of a tongue intermittently peeked out, as Harry concentrated…was not conducive to thinking productive thoughts. After a while, Remus shut his eyes, hoping that by blocking out the sight, he'd erase the attraction. Of course, that didn't help, either, as it enabled him to picture what he'd _like_ to see so much more clearly…

          Harry, meanwhile, was alternating between the absolutely enthralling book, and the absolutely appetizing-looking Remus Lupin. The man had apparently given Harry his robe at some point, and Harry was astounded (and gratified) to see the man was wearing a very faded, threadbare pare of jeans. This was one item of clothing that Lupin could wear out completely, and—in Harry's eyes—it would only improve. And the dark shirt made the silver in Remus's hair seem far more sexy and stylish and almost…intentional. Harry hid a grin, forcing his eyes back down on the book. _Stop looking at what you're never going to have,_ he chided himself. _The poor guy is tired, and instead of helping, you're undressing him with your eyes!_ Actually, he hadn't been, but his conscience had a point, there. He sneaked another glance from under his lashes, watching the man shut his eyes and lean his head back against the wall. _First, off with the shirt…_he thought impishly, before stifling his impulses. _Book! Book, Harry, book! You remember those, don't you? _Why did his conscience sound so god-awfully like Hermione? He gritted his teeth, torn between aggravation with himself for wanting to continue to ogle the man, and aggravation with himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity to do so. _Book? Ah, yes. It's that great square thing currently hiding my erection. _He shook his head roughly. _STOP THAT!_

          Firmly, he focused on the words in front of him. _A werewolf mates for life. It cannot change its mind. Once a werewolf has mated, a powerful drive will impel it to stay near its partner. A werewolf's bond to his or her mate can only be broken by death. Oftentimes if the human partner should die before the werewolf, the werewolf will pine away and die…_Harry frowned at this. How incredibly sad. But still somehow very sexy. He risked another look at Lupin. What a handsome creature he was. _The human mate will also find it craves the company of its werewolf partner, and the two will find it difficult to be apart for significant lengths of time. The couple often finds the urge to be near one another especially strong in the beginning, when the bond is still developing. It is during this fundamental formative stage that the two must find their place in the bond, and learn to work within its boundaries._

          Harry heard Remus give a sigh of frustration, and realized the man was locked in his head with his own thoughts, and likely irritated about not thinking of a way out. Harry frowned. Remus wasn't getting anywhere. Well, it wasn't Remus's fault. Perhaps if Harry distracted him for a little while, his mind would stop going in circles.

           "It says here that a werewolf won't hurt his chosen mate, because he views the mate as 'pack,' and the instinct to preserve the pack is stronger than the instinct to destroy," Harry read aloud. "Isn't that interesting? You said you didn't know anything about that—er—werewolves mating for life and all. Or it wasn't true or something. What was it you said?"

           Remus smiled a little. Harry was so obvious, but it was sweet, really. Always trying to take care of the people around him. He should have known the boy would come to life if Remus showed the slightest sign he might be wallowing in despair. "I don't know if that particular part is true," he informed the boy. "You get different opinions from different people. I haven't actually met more than a handful of werewolves and for obvious reasons we aren't really social creatures, so few would be inclined to seek a mate, even if that option were open to them. I spoke with one couple in Greece several years ago, who swore that it was true; that they had mated young and every word Ignobal wrote on the subject was gospel. On the other hand, a friend in Mayfield told me that it was…falsehood, and that although he 'followed the instructions,' nothing ever happened. I'm inclined to believe it's a rather outlandish tale of entertainment, myself."

           "You don't believe it's real, then?" Harry said sounding disappointed even to himself.

           "It does make for a good story, doesn't it?" Remus grinned at him. "And I'm not saying I don't believe, just that…well; let's just say I'd prefer to withhold judgment until I'm in possession of all the facts, or at least have seen some evidence one way or the other."

           "Huh." Harry shrugged and glanced back down at the book. In its own special way, it was almost as engaging as Lupin. "It sure is detailed, if it's completely untrue. Listen to this; '_The werewolf is nearly always the dominant partner in the pair, no matter how shy or reticent they may seem to the outside world.'_" Harry couldn't resist a rascally smile in Remus's direction. "I wonder if they're like, the opposite of how they usually are, then. You know; like however shy they are is equal to how dominant they are?"

          Remus looked up sharply, surprised at Harry's boldness. "Inversely proportionate?" he supplied, his mouth working on automatic.

           "Yeah, that. If that were the case, you'd have to be pretty dominant, then, wouldn't you?" he asked teasingly, those green eyes alight with impudence. "I mean; you'd be a real monster in the bedroom, wouldn't you?" Harry was half shocked at the words coming out of his own mouth, but he couldn't stop, and didn't really want to. He was locked in a tiny room with one of the hottest men he'd ever met, and he was feeling acutely sexually frustrated. In response, he was lashing out and seeing what buttons of Lupin's could be pushed, and how far he could push the man.

          Lupin, for his part, was staring directly at his feet, fighting frantically against the heat creeping up his cheeks. He could not believe Harry, sometimes. If the boy only knew what Lupin wanted, he'd never have said such foolish things. _Dominant one. Ha. Yes, I'm the epitome of dominance; I can't even look him in the eye!_

          Harry saw the man blushing and was mesmerized. _He really IS shy. I should probably stop teasing him; its obvious he doesn't like it._ "Sorry," he muttered, feeling a little ashamed.

          Remus took a deep breath. _Don't alienate him by acting all prudish_, he instructed himself. _But for God's sake, Lupin, do NOT let him see you're turned on!_ "It's quite all right, Harry," he told the boy gently. "I'm not going to get angry with you for teasing me. You seem to apologize to me rather frequently these days, and it really isn't necessary. I don't know why you'd think I'd be upset with you, or what you think I'd do if I was, but I can assure you that it's probably nothing that awful. And the only time I've ever been angry with you was the time you put yourself in danger for no reason. Even then, I didn't feel anger so much as…well, fear that something would happen to you. So you needn't be afraid of me. Do you understand?"

          Harry swallowed hard and nodded. "I know you wouldn't…you usually don't…you're not an angry sort of person," he tried to explain, but had difficulty finding the words. It was so complicated. _It's just that I killed Sirius and you were Sirius's best friend and my mum and dad died because of me and THEY were your friends, and it seems like I've done nothing but hurt you since the day I was born, even if it wasn't intentional…plus, I'm developing a huge crush on you, and on top of all that I'd like to prove to all of you that I'm not a child anymore, and I deserve to be taken into confidence and…_It just went on and on. And most of it was stuff he'd never be able to say. Finally he settled on, "When Sirius died…" his voice caught, and it took him a moment to go on. "I didn't. I never—I…I never had much time with him. But I still liked him a lot. He was like a dad to me. Or older brother, or maybe a real uncle or something. He was like family. And I. Never really told him anything about that. I never told him I'd miss him if something happened, I never said I loved him—"

           "He knew all the same, Harry," Lupin assured him, coming to kneel next to the cot. "And he loved you as well—you were the son he never had—the thing that made it worth everything he'd been through. He was wildly proud of you, Harry." It hurt to think of Sirius—hurt still. God, what would Sirius have thought of this—Remus's indecent lust for his godson?

           "Yeah," Harry was saying softly. "But I was being such a prick all the time. I was so mad and I kept snapping at everybody, and when he told me to go back to Snape and ask him to restart my Occlumency lessons, I didn't. I didn't and—" Harry broke off in a choking voice, and Remus got up on the cot put an arm around his shoulders.

           "None of that matters, and none of it ever did. Things happen the way they happen. That's just the way it is. Harry, Sirius knew you cared about him. He understood—more than understood—your difficulties with Professor Snape. And he was well aware that mood swings and generalized anger are a pretty typical state for a teenaged boy. He was fifteen himself once, you know." Remus anxiously rubbed Harry's back, wishing there were someone better at this sort of thing around. After all, Remus, himself, had never been fifteen. Not mentally. Oh, sure; when the boys were around, getting into trouble, he sometimes got swept up in it, but…on the whole, he'd felt too much pain, seen too much, been too different to ever feel like a normal teenaged boy. He supposed Harry was much the same, now that he came to think about it.

          Harry was chewing his lower lip again. "I guess one of the reasons I don't…that I…try not to make you mad at me…try not to get into arguments with you…is that any time at all, it could all end, and—and. I don't want my last words to you to be something I said while I was mad," he admitted to his hands, which were folded in his lap.

           "Oh, Harry," Remus murmured, leaning over and resting his chin on the youth's head. "You needn't worry over that. People fight, sometimes. People say stupid things. That doesn't mean they don't care about each other, or think the other person doesn't care about them." He pulled back to look at Harry's face. In his own way, though, Remus knew what Harry was talking about. He'd spent most of his school years too frightened of losing James and Sirius to ever stand up to them, ever argue with them, even when they really needed or deserved it. When you came right down to it, Remus had never been the brave one or the bold one. And in the end, it was usually up to James to be the strong one. Lupin sighed mentally, bringing himself back to the present. "I know you care about me, and I hope you realize that I care about you. That isn't going to change, even if we have an argument about something." Remus became aware that he was being studied intently, and looked down to see intense emerald eyes blazing into his own.

           "I…" Harry's voice trailed off. Remus cared about him. He knew the man cared about him—at least, he knew on some rational level, but…he'd never expected to hear him say it. Remus had never been very demonstrative. Remus was the soul of restraint. Remus was, in fact, entirely too British for his own good. Harry smiled crookedly at this thought. "I do care about you. I care about you a lot." Harry felt his cheeks turn pink, and knew Remus had noticed by the way his eyes strayed down the boy's face. It had felt good to say, but Harry suddenly found himself shy. "Do you…really care about me?" he asked, breathless and blinking a little, only half-aware that what he was doing was flirting with a werewolf. He wasn't actually even thinking anymore—his brain had shorted out from an overflow of affection and desire, and all he had left to work with was instinct.

          Remus watched those pretty eyes fluttering at him, the cheeks flushed, and even Harry's posture—knees locked together, heels turned out, shoulders moving smoothly from side to side as the boy squirmed a little—it all seemed to be arranged in a particular way. It conveyed innocence—oh, yes, there was that—but also an inordinate amount of…_seduction_, as well. Remus noted wildly that one of Harry's hands was delicately creeping up to rub the boy's chest in an unmistakable gesture of arousal. Dear God! The boy had no idea what he was doing! _Calm down, Remus,_ he told himself. _He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it._ But _why_ was he doing it? The youth was unconsciously flirting with Remus. Did that mean he was _attracted _to Remus on some level? _Of course not—don't be silly. He's doing this because he's a teenaged boy with hormones in overdrive, and you happen to be the only one in the room._ It took all of Remus's long-practiced composure not to yank his hands away from the boy—whose body was hotter than a moment before, very hot—_Yes, I could swear his body temperature's gone up, he's nearly scorching my hands_, Remus thought frenetically. At the same time, it took all of Remus's self-restraint not to shove the boy down on the bed—or floor—or against the wall, it hardly mattered—and rip his clothing from him and run his hands all over that porcelain skin and taste him and feel him and ride him—

          The man became aware that Harry was looking at him expectantly, and remembered that Harry had asked him a question. He groped back in his memory, but could find nothing but imagined images from moments before. "…What was that again?" he finally gave in, feeling his heart going at a ferocious pace.

          Harry tilted his head, eyes wide, and smiled a little. "Do you _really care about me_?" he repeated.

           "Of course I do," Lupin said huskily, his voice blanketed in lust. He saw Harry's eyes darken, and the boy reached up to take his face in his hands, pulling the man down into an inexperienced kiss. _No, no, no! This can't be happening,_ Remus panicked, _no self control, too close to the apex of the cycle, mustn't do this—mustn't mustn't, must NOT—James and Lily would kill me, Sirius would kill me, Dumbledore would kill me—_ but even amidst these rational thoughts, his body had gone completely beyond his control. His grip had tightened on the boy's shoulders, his other hand to Harry's hip, and his lips had responded enthusiastically. Of course, that was nothing to what his body was doing beneath his robes, but at least Harry wasn't aware of that.

          Harry was beyond Heaven. There were no words to describe this paradise. He let one of his hands stray up into Lupin's hair, tangling in the soft strands. God, that was nice. The sound Remus made in the back of his throat when Harry did it was even better. Harry's other hand slid down to the man's chest, where he worked his fingers into the space between two buttons on Lupin's shirt, greedily seeking the rough hair he'd felt there earlier. He just managed to brush against it with the very tips of his fingers, and let a sigh out through his nose.

          Abruptly, the door to the room snapped open, and Remus leapt back from the boy. There was a Death Eater standing in the doorway, managing to communicate a sneer even though he wore a mask. Remus suddenly realized that he'd been more worried about being caught in a compromising position with the youth than protecting him, and hurled himself between the Death Eater and the boy. He should have known someone would come to check in on them. It had to be morning by now, at least.

           "I thought you might want to know," the Death Eater told them in Lucius Malfoy's unmistakably smug drawl, "that we've breached Hogwarts' security, and that the castle will shortly fall to us. My master had sanctioned me to give you one last chance at survival. Join us, and you will be spared."

          Harry bit his lip, knowing he had to let Lupin take charge—_wanting_ Lupin to take charge. He snuck a quick glance at the werewolf, who was bristling at the offer, his lips pulled back in distaste. When he realized Harry was watching him, he seemed to master himself once more, that calm alter ego sliding into place.

           "I don't see how that would benefit us in the least," he said quietly. "Voldemort is not a man to keep his promises. Nor, it must be said, are you. This being the case, I find it difficult to believe you've managed to get within Hogwarts' walls, and this all isn't just a very stupid ploy."

          Lucius's bearing tensed, as though he was extremely angry. "You may think whatever you like," he told them in clipped tones. "Though I find it very rich; having my honor impugned by someone who is not even _human_. We have entered Hogwarts, and I shall take especial pleasure in knocking each and every one of its stones to the _ground_." His eyes glittered maliciously.

          Harry was shocked when Lupin suddenly collided with the man, driving him into the wall and scrabbling to tear the wand from his hand. "Expelliarmus!" Harry heard Lucius snarl, and with a burst of light, Lupin was thrown across the room, coming to rest on the cold stone floor. Harry jumped in front of him, arms out as if to fend off another attack.

          Lucius merely laughed long and disdainfully. "You see how your little hero leaps to your rescue? Have you told him, wolf, what you will do to him if my master has not finished sacking the castle by nightfall? Have you explained that you will rend the meat from his bones like the animal you are?" He laughed again at the expression on Lupin's face. "Or had you forgotten tonight was the full moon? Do you know, I hope the Dark Lord _is_ detained at Hogwarts. I think it would be _such_ a fitting finish for the boy, ending his existence as dog food by proxy." He chuckled again, and whirled, striding quickly out the door and slamming it behind him.

           "Re—I mean, ah. Are you all right?" Harry asked worriedly at Lupin's side. He tentatively reached out, letting his fingers rest lightly on the man's upper arm. What if he was angry about the kiss? _Stop that, you idiot,_ Harry reprimanded himself. _That isn't important, now. He could really be hurt!_

           "Oh, I'll live, Harry," Remus grunted. "I think my ribs may be a little bruised, and my back is sore, but it would take more than that to finish off a werewolf." He sighed. "Back to square one, aren't we? I had hopes that with Lucius distracted on his superiority digression, I might have been able to get his wand away. Alas, I'm not as spry as I used to be."

          Harry looked at him admiringly. "I was really impressed that you tried, though. Scared to death that he'd really hurt you—but impressed all the same. I really didn't expect you to do that—it was so fast and everything!"

           "Not fast enough," Lupin responded, smiling wryly. "It's…because the full moon is so close," he whispered. "I get a little…reckless around this time. Although it does sharpen my senses, and often the adrenaline gives me a boost of strength, so…I was hoping it might just be enough to prevail."

           "It _almost_ was," Harry told him bracingly. "It was really a good show, by the way. It's kind of funny. Like one minute you're mild mannered Professor Lupin, and the next, you're Superwolf."

          Lupin rolled his eyes at this, but if anything, his smile stretched a little wider. After a few moments of silence, it faltered. "I should not have done that," he stated.

           "Nah, doesn't matter," Harry assured him. "It was a good try and all, and you nearly managed it."

           "Not that," Lupin said shortly.

           "Oh." Harry thought for a few moments. "But…_you_ didn't do that. _I_ did that. It wasn't your fault. Er. Are you mad at me?"

           Lupin could have choked on the irony. "No, Harry, I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself for giving in to a very brutish urge. And you needn't blame yourself; I'm the adult here, this whole thing is my responsibility. I'm your professor and protector, and I haven't done a good job at being either one, of late. And though I care very deeply for you, what we just did was wholly inappropriate for a wide range of reasons."

          Harry was suddenly angry. He should have known Remus would act like this. He should have _known._ He got to his feet, pacing back and forth, pausing now and again to give the cot leg a savage kick. "Don't do this, Remus," he fumed. "Just. _Don't._ Don't you _dare_ pull this sanctimonious bullshit on me. I want you and you want me and that's all we need to know. That's all that matters. Isn't it? Well? _Isn't_ it?" Harry stared at him, eyes flashing with ire.

           Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. To Harry, it _would_ seem that simple. At sixteen, love was incredibly clear-cut. I love you and you love me, forever and ever. Only someone completely inexperienced thought that way. He thought back to his sixth year, curled in Sirius's arms. It _had_ all seemed simple. It was amazing how quickly simplicity ended, and duplicity began. "Harry…"

           "No! I want you. I _want _you," Harry said, aware that he was sounding whiny, and knelt between the man's knees. "I trust you. How could I _ever_ trust anyone else this way? And you _are _being a good professor and protector. You're taking the blows they'd be giving _me_, and you're…showing me things I need to know. I _want_ you to show me how to kiss, and how to touch…how to be with someone like that…if not you, then _who_?"

           Remus shuddered, keeping his eyes shut. He _could not_ watch Harry's mouth while he was saying things like that. "Merlin, Harry, that's…I won't say it's not tempting, because it is. But you have to understand, it's all so much more complicated than that." Harry started shaking his head, but Remus overrode his protestations. "I am a _dark creature_, Harry. I don't always have control." The thought of what would happen that night, if they were not rescued, made his blood turn cold. "I do _not_ wish to hurt you, and I don't know if I could help myself. And there are…I'm…damn it, Harry; I'm in a position of trust. You said it yourself; you trust me. I refuse to take advantage of that trust, and anyway…I'm not really good at this sort of thing. I'm not…even if you were looking for someone older, someone to guide you through this sort of situation—"

           "Sex, you mean," Harry interrupted angrily. "Call it like it is, at least. Someone to be my first. Someone to take my virginity. Say it."

           "Sex," Remus echoed, trying to ignore the ranting youth. "Even if that's what you wanted, I'm in no way fit—I'm not the ideal candidate for that, I—I've had little enough experience, myself, and most of that was with Sirius, who only recently died, and I just don't think I can cope—"

           "You…you and Sirius?" Harry gasped, his face horrified.

           "Well, I'm sorry if it offends you, but—"

           "No. No, I'm sorry." Harry was very white, now. "I didn't…I'm sorry."

           Remus looked at him for a long time, but the fight seemed to have gone out of the youth. "It's all right," he said quietly, keeping in mind his oath to let the boy know it was all right to fight with people he loved. He felt his heavy lids slide down again.

           "No, it's not," Harry replied bitterly. Then, "Could we just change the subject?"

          Lupin's eyes popped open, focusing on the cynical child before him. What was he to say to that? It should have been someone else…he shouldn't have been the one taken with Harry…he was just not enough. "Twenty questions?" he heard himself say hoarsely, and the boy nodded without looking at him.

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          Remus did not have any way of telling the time, but he could feel its passing. He felt each moment tick by, each compounded minute like a lifetime of weight on his soul. Hours trickled past, bringing the future ever closer to the present. Tonight he would become a killer. Tonight, he would become a predator. Tonight, he would end the life of Harry Potter. Jesus. Not that. Anything but that. He would have even offered himself to Voldemort, but he knew that those people turned on each other as quickly as they did their enemies, and that their word meant absolutely nothing.

          Harry hadn't looked at Remus once in the last few hours. He couldn't believe he'd made such a…such a misjudgment about the whole thing. Remus and Sirius…it just made _sense_…it just seemed _right_. He wondered why he hadn't seen it, before. _Because, let's face it, Potter…unless it jumps in front of you wearing a hula skirt, waving glowing red flags and screeching at the top of its lungs, you hardly ever notice things like social signals. _ And now he felt triply guilty over his godfather's death. Remus must _hate_ him. How could he even pretend otherwise? Harry curled in on himself on the cot, looking around the room. He'd wanted so much to get out, to find a place to be with Remus and be free, and now… _This is exactly what I deserve,_ he told himself in disgust. _I'm glad I haven't eaten anything, I'm glad I'm someone's prisoner, and if they torture and kill me, then—well. I don't know. It won't help Remus, will it? And whatever I deserve, he certainly doesn't, and he's here, too._

          But the worst part—the absolute worst part of the whole situation—was that Harry _still_ had a crush on Remus. He couldn't stop the feelings, couldn't make them go away. Who _wouldn't_ love Remus? He was always so sweet and so kind and even when Harry did something totally awful—like throwing himself at the man—he continued to be nice, and logical and, to at least some extent, conscientious of Harry's feelings.

          Remus watched Harry out of the corner of his eye, cursing himself. He hadn't meant to hurt or anger the boy, but he obviously hadn't handled the incident with the care it required. Well, if Harry couldn't accept the fact that he and Sirius had once been lovers, there was nothing Remus could do about it. It wasn't something that could be undone, nor would Remus have undone it if he could. He'd loved Sirius, even if after Azkaban something had been broken between them. By that point in their lives, neither one of them was completely whole or sound anymore, and they had both learned to make due with whatever intimacy they could muster.

          All the same, watching the boy's thin frame pulled up into a knot of pain made Remus flinch. He would have liked to say something, anything, to comfort Harry, but…the wolf was strong, now, and getting stronger every moment. What was merely an echo of need inside his own head a few hours ago would now not be able to approach the boy without evolving into a ravenous beast. Remus was fairly certain that he could at least channel the want into mere lust for the boy, but he couldn't decide which was worse: the thought of attacking Harry to devour him, or the thought of attacking the boy to rut with him. _It would be rape,_ he kept reminding himself. _Oh? Even though he wants it every bit as much as you do?_ Remus gritted his teeth. _Even then, because he only thinks he wants it. Tomorrow, things will look very different._ He stared at the boy on the bed. _Yes, because tomorrow he'll be dead, and even if they rescue you, it will only be to put you down._ Remus shuddered. They would put him down, and he would deserve it. Any werewolf that killed a human being was automatically going to get capital punishment.

          After another hour of these thoughts swirling through Remus's mind, he saw Harry sit up and look at him.

           "Tonight is the full moon, isn't it?" he asked dully. Remus didn't trust himself to reply, so he merely nodded. "I'm sorry. I know you don't want to. I understand you can't control it. It isn't your fault."

          Remus understood what the boy was saying, and felt his gut twist. _I know you don't want to hurt me. You can't help it, so I forgive you._ "I don't want to hurt you," he affirmed. "I really, truly do not want to hurt you."

          Harry smiled a little. "What if we…mated…like in the book…" he trailed off, not looking at Lupin.

           "_No_, Harry. I don't want to do that to you, either. I mean; I _do_ want to…I can barely control it right now. The wolf is fighting to get out, you don't know how hard…just…please don't say things like that, Harry. Not now. You don't know what it does to me—or what I'd like to do to you. That's almost as bad—"

           "At least that way I wouldn't be _dead_!" Harry shot back, face flushed.

          Remus went very pale. "I'm sorry. But there isn't even any evidence that that would work. It's just a myth. And then, I'd have hurt you twice. I couldn't bear to do that, Harry." The boy looked away for a long time, but finally nodded. "I'm sure the Order will come for us, soon."

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          Night was falling, and no one had come for them. Remus had even gone and screamed through the door, hoping he could make one last attempt at negotiation, but the entire place seemed empty, filled with nothing but fear and echoes. Harry merely watched silently as Remus paced.

          The youth wished Remus were more terrifying. More monstrous. That would make it easier. Perhaps then Harry would have at least been able to concentrate on other possible courses of action. As it was…Remus was stunning. His eyes were both darker and brighter than they usually were, his tongue kept slipping out to run along his lips or sometimes his teeth, and his movements! God, Harry had never seen anyone move with such powerful, alluring grace before. His muscles worked like oiled snakes, smooth and fluid. Harry was having a difficult time thinking at _all_, as the man's strong shoulders shifted, his biceps clenched and unclenched, and his…_Good grief, idiot; stop drooling over the man's arse,_ Harry told himself sternly. _If he catches you at that…_

          Suddenly, Remus dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his forehead on them. Harry tensed, but the man was still a man. "One hour to go…two if we're lucky," he whispered.

          Harry ached for the man—in every conceivable sense. "I'm sorry," he told him again. "Look…this isn't your fault. And they'll have to understand that, as well. You can't help this. And I'd never blame you. I'm sure the others won't, either—"

          Remus gave a short, cynical laugh. "It won't matter what the others think or feel. There are laws about this sort of thing."

          Harry cocked his head to the side, concerned. "What do you mean?"

          Remus heaved a heavy sigh, causing his shoulders to rise greatly and fall again. "There are many laws governing dark creatures in the wizarding world. One is that if a werewolf kills a human, it must be put down." He gave a snort. "Like a rabid dog. It's lost control, you see. There are no second chances."

          Harry gaped at him in horror. His own death—well; he'd been thinking about that for a long while now. Years, in fact. He didn't look forward to it, but he was probably less terrified of it than he might have been. But Remus didn't deserve to die—none of this was his fault! He had to do something. He _had to do something._

          _He wants you_, Harry told himself. _He admitted as much. If you went to him, now, touched him, now…he wouldn't be able to say no. _Harry breathed deeply, brow furrowed, trying to decide if that was the right course of action. _It would probably hurt, with him in this state. He could just lose control…it could hurt a LOT_. He watched the man's ragged breathing. _But it would give you a chance, wouldn't it?_ a sneaky little voice in his head suggested. _It would give you both a chance._ Harry stared at the man's figure for a long time. _Yes…a chance…_

          He got slowly to his feet and walked over to the man. Kneeling carefully, he tugged the man's arms away from his knees and face. Remus's head jerked up. His eyes met Harry's, and widened in sudden understanding. "Harry…don't…please. No," he croaked.

          Harry slid one slender hand between the man's knees, and felt them give way. Pushing, he crawled between Lupin's strong legs and leaned in close to the man's lips. "_Yes_," he whispered insistently, and pressed forward.

          It was more than a little gratifying, how short a time it took for those lips to part, and the tongue to be coaxed out, quickly overcoming his own and leaving the security of its home to explore Harry's mouth. Harry moaned softly, and could hear Remus echo the sentiment. Harry knew beyond a doubt that this was wrong…that was probably why it felt so good.

          Remus had given in hours ago. His will had broken, and he knew that it would only take one last attempt by Harry in order for his defenses to fall completely. It was astonishing how good it felt to give in. Since he could no longer stop this, he settled for telling himself that he must not hurt the boy. This was all he had left within his power to give.

          Sliding powerful arms around the boy's waist, Remus pulled him closer, pressing Harry's body up against his own. It nearly caused a system overload when he had that searing form against his erection, and he felt Harry's own length against his stomach. He was sure the boy enjoyed this, too, by the ragged whimper that came from his throat.

          _His throat._ Remus ceased to breath for a moment, before allowing that it might not be _such_ a bad thing. _But no biting,_ he reminded himself. He pulled back, untangling his tongue and stared, panting, into wild green eyes.

          Harry could not believe any of this was happening. It was so far beyond his expectations he hardly knew what to do with himself. And when Remus pulled away from his mouth, he wanted to sob at the loss, but then realized those smoldering eyes were staring into his own. God, the man was beautiful. "Remus…" he hissed, and suddenly the man yanked him closer, mouth open and working against Harry's neck. It tickled, yet it didn't. The wet heat against his sensitive skin felt wonderful. With a groan, he reached up and dug his fingers into the man's silver shot hair.

          Remus ran his tongue up and down the salty flesh, gnawing gently here and there. _Gentle, gentle, gentle…_he told himself. _Damn it, I need a leash._ This thought made him shiver violently with desire. He and Sirius had never bothered with things like that before. They'd never really gotten the chance. Suddenly, it seemed like a fun idea to try out. Harry's hand snaked down between them, rubbing Remus through his jeans. _Mmm. Or Harry needs a leash. That would be fun, too. _He let out an uneven breath._ Argh. I am a perverted old wolf._ 

          Harry bit his lip softly, debating what he should do next. Tentatively, he tugged on Remus's shirt and began unbuttoning it. Remus pulled back just long enough to give him an encouraging smile, then started unbuttoning Harry's shirt in return. Harry's nimble fingers finished the job quickly, and began tracing lines up and down the man's chest, interweaving them in the coarse hair. "You are very sexy," Harry whispered shyly. Thin scars crisscrossed Lupin's muscled pectorals, and Harry leaned in to deftly follow one with his tongue.

          This was Remus's undoing. Forgoing the tedious process of undoing the buttoned shirt, Remus grabbed each side of the fabric and jerked hard. The small, round plastic bits jumped off, clattering off the dungeon walls. He heard Harry gasp, and looked up quickly to see whether he'd scared the youth. Instead, he met eyes lidded with desire. He yanked the boy down into another heated kiss, running his hands roughly all over that smooth skin. He caressed the slim back muscles, let his palms feel every inch of Harry's Quidditch-honed upper arms, trailed blunt fingertips down and over hard little nipples, causing Harry to arch and gasp, breaking the kiss.

          Harry fought to control himself. This was better than he'd ever imagined, like he'd been living in a world where apple pie was the only dessert in existence, and suddenly someone had thrown open a pantry door, and there were cakes and creams and mints and all sorts of delicious things he'd never dreamed of. He found that he was starving, salivating for this, for anything he was offered. And, he dimly noted, Lupin's mouth tasted like chocolate. "Please, Remus," he choked out, as the man's wet mouth sucked and sucked at his collarbone. "This is…I mean—" he broke into a cry as the older wizard slid his talented tongue down Harry's chest, over his nipples, in and out of the indentation of his belly button. "I don't—the book said—we had to do—a lot of things…I don't think I'm going to be able to do much of any of it…I'm already very close."

          Remus seemed like he might have mercy on the youth, pulling away to look at him. Then, however, he smiled devilishly. "You're sixteen, Harry. Don't worry about ending it too soon. You'll find you're quickly ready to go again." Harry gaped at this. Where was the shy professor he was so used to?

          Harry gasped as the man stood, gathering him into his arms and carrying him to the cot. Hands trembling, he continued to unclothe the student, before reaching down and grasping Harry's shaft in his wide hand. Harry moaned, shifting slightly.. And then it was hot and slick and stars exploding in the sky, he could see them even indoors, even with his eyes closed, and he fisted the werewolf's hair and gave a strangled shout and nothing could ever, ever feel this good again.

          Remus sat back on his haunches, gazing at Harry's stunned, sated expression with amusement. His hair stuck up everywhere, and a flush had infused his entire body. The youth was practically glowing. He could feel the wolf inside slavering for more, and clenched his teeth to hold it back. He would go slowly, however much the monster inside told him to snatch and consume and ravish the boy. He bent over the lean body and captured Harry's lips with his own, feeling the gasp of surprise the boy gave when Remus pushed his tongue between those swollen lips once more. It did not take Harry long at all to adjust to this new diversion, and he licked back hungrily and enthusiastically. _That's one step done, according to the book, at least,_ Remus noted to himself.

          He spent sometime working over Harry's body again, fighting the pull of the moon that threatened to rise. How long? An hour? Forty five minutes? A little longer than an hour, even? So hard to judge… He felt Harry extract himself from the man's lips and rasp, "Remus, I want you inside of me."

          Remus's head flew up, and the beast inside was _roaring_ for this, _begging _for this. He thought he'd do anything in the world to hear Harry say that again. "What was that?" he growled rapaciously, curving his tongue over the shell of Harry's ear. The boy's hips bucked up, and he felt Harry's hardness once more.

           "Don't be coy," Harry grated, drawing a rumble of laughter from the man. "I know damn well you heard me. I. Want. You. Please, Remus." He did the movement with the hips again, eliciting a noise between a snarl and a groan.

           "Oh, dear God," Remus replied, panting heavily. "Stop saying things like that, unless you want to give me a heart attack. Do you _want_ to kill me?"

           Harry smirked. "You're the one who keeps saying werewolves can't be killed that way. So I'm sorry if it's an unconvincing argument right now. It's not silver, and it's not fire, so you'll live. And take me." He grinned when Remus whimpered.

           "I give in. You win. Stop _talking_ like that; it's thoroughly _maddening_." He grabbed hold of his robes, hunting through the pockets until he found the base oil he'd picked up earlier. He looked up at Harry, eyes pleading as he asked, "Are you entirely positive you want this?"

           "Don't be a twit, Remus," Harry sighed. "You have no _idea_ how much I want this." He jerked his hips up once more, and then found himself pinned to the cot by one of Remus's…paws, one could say, gripping his waist.

           "Yes, need a leash, definitely a leash for you…collar, leash, impractical leather-wear," Remus babbled at him, pouring the oil over just about every body part he could find. "Harry…are you sure—?"

           "ARGH! Stop torturing me and just do it!" Harry yelled, startling the man.

           "All right," Remus replied uncertainly, beginning a heated rhythm as he prepared the youth. When Harry began to make ecstatic noises and push against the man's hand, he added another finger. Finally, with the youth writhing and panting beneath him, the wolf storming and throbbing in his head, Remus lowered himself and pushed into the boy. Once again, he stopped and watched Harry's face for a signal. "Does it hurt?" he murmured. "We can stop if it hurts…"

           "Stupid werewolf," Harry gave him a sly smile, taunting him. "It doesn't hurt _that_ much. Why aren't you moving? What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" He arched his back, and Remus gave a long, shuddering breath through clenched teeth.

           "Tell me if you need me to stop," he begged, knowing all the while it would be useless, because he couldn't, now, even if he wanted to. He began moving carefully, lost in the sensation but painfully aware of Harry's needs, Harry's body, Harry's fragility. If this did not work, he would hurt the boy enough later on. For now, he clung desperately to his humanity.

          Harry's mouth, meanwhile, was working non-stop, saying things like, "More," and "Faster," and "More," and "Harder," and "More." Remus was merely making a keening noise as he struggled to keep his sanity.

           "Forget the leash," he panted. "What we really need for you is a gag."

           "_Harder,_ Remus," Harry replied in a whiny, impatient voice.

           "Shut _up,_" Remus responded, choking with laughter.

           "Make me," Harry leered.

           "_Fine_," Lupin bellowed, and crushed his lips to Harry's as drove in harder and harder and _Oh, God, don't hurt the boy,_ though of course the damned demon child wasn't making any distressed noises at all, but rather needy, wanton sounds that drove Remus absolutely crazy. And finally, he was crying out in pleasure, voice scratchy and raucous, fingers digging into Harry's hips as he thrust with wild abandon. As soon as he began to come off of the orgasmic high, he was slapped in the face with a gauntlet of self-loathing, but it had been great while it lasted, and Harry had followed quickly, his exhilaration-filled yells echoing the werewolf's own.

          Before Remus had even begun to recover, Harry reminded him, "You still have to mark me."

           "I don't want to bite you," Lupin muttered sulkily. Somehow, drawing blood from the boy with his teeth was far worse than simply boffing him. Which was not a worthy thought, in either case. He sighed, letting his head fall to the youth's chest. Harry's deft fingers ran through his hair, petting him gently.

           "If it's not something you enjoy doing, then let's get it out of the way so you can move on to things you _do_ enjoy doing," the Boy Wonder said reasonably.

           "Good lord. Don't give me Hermione-esque quotations _now_, of all times," Remus chastised, and Harry had to laugh. The man sat up slowly, and pulled Harry up beside him. He looked the youth's body over speculatively. "Where do you want it?" he finally asked.

           "Oh, everywhere you can give it to me," Harry rejoined immediately in a sultry voice.

           "Twice in one night and it's not enough?" Remus arched a brow. "And they call _me_ an animal." He let out a slow breath through his nose. "We'll have to put it somewhere it won't be seen…Harry, you do realize what I've done would probably be considered just as bad, if not worse, than killing you, don't you?"

           "What _we've_ done, and I realize what they'd do to you and no, I don't intend anyone to find out," he countered. They stared at each other for a tense moment. "Nape of my neck," he said decisively.

           "What?"

           "The nape of my _neck_. My hair already covers it, and I could grow it out a bit. Besides, it would be less sensitive than say, my thigh or my stomach or something. Go on." He turned, tilting his head down.

           Remus swallowed. Not much time left. He didn't want to do this. Merlin, how he didn't want to do this. _Do it fast,_ he instructed himself. He positioned his mouth over Harry's neck, and pressed his teeth against the soft skin. "You know, I rather like it when you're rough with me," Harry said in a contemplative voice, and Remus, in shock, bit down hard. "Ow!" Harry cried, jerking away and clapping his hand to the back of his neck. "That stung far worse than I expected it to do."

          Remus ran his tongue along his teeth, tasting the coppery tang, and felt the wolf howl within. "What on earth did you think, you little prat?" he replied absently. "That it would tickle?"

           "You know, we _both_ have to trade blood," Harry pointed out.

           Remus nodded. He was aware of a growing sense of self-castigation, and anger that he'd let all of this happen. If only he'd been on his guard in the first place…placing his tongue between his teeth, he snapped his jaws on the muscle. _Punishment_, he thought with a small sense of satisfaction. Then he cupped Harry's face in his hands, and gently introduced their tongues again.

           When the werewolf pulled back, Harry stared at him. "Go into the bathroom and get cleaned up," Remus ordered brusquely. Harry grabbed his clothes, untangling them from Remus's, and did as he was told. Remus stared into space for a few moments before going to join him.

           "What are we going to do about the buttons?" Harry enquired after putting on his shirt. "I look a right idiot, without any buttons."

           "I am _entirely_ without sympathy, you wretched flirt. Anyway, you _begged _me to do that, you know." He ran his fingers through his hair, aware that soon it wouldn't matter; soon the moon would rise. Minutes? Seconds? Will this have made any difference at all?

          A loud noise came from the other room, and they both craned their necks to see Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks bursting into the room. "Thank God we found you!" the woman cried, and grasped Harry's hand, yanking him forward.

           "They're in here!" Shacklebolt called, and Severus arrived almost instantly, bearing a steaming goblet.

           "Hurry, you careless jackass," he urged, and Remus swallowed the whole thing in one gulp.

          They'd been rescued. And there was absolutely no need for him to have made Harry his mate.

          Tonks was looking at Harry awry. "Harry?" she said in tones of concern. "What happened to your shirt…?"

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LINES CREDITED TO ShadowPhoenix:

          _How about getting a shag in before they kill us?_

                                        And

           Why did his conscience sound so god-awfully like Hermione?

          This was an _unbelievably _difficult chapter to write, as I don't usually do smut, and was overwhelmed with feelings of insecurity and embarrassment. So, once again, if you've enjoyed it, thank ShadowPhoenix for bolstering my morale at each faltering step. I took out the bit about the booze (when I sent this to my her, it read in part; "Hands trembling, he continued to unclothe the student, before reaching down and —Oh, dear, ShadowPhoenix I am _out _of tequila, you have _no_ idea how difficult this is—grasping Harry's shaft in his wide hand.") and thanks to ShadowPhoenix so much for reminding me, because while it _is_ rather an amusing look into my state of mind at the time, it really did detract from the storyline.

         There probably aren't too many stories where the sex takes place before the angst, but this is one of them. Actual plot begins to develop in the future, as our boys 'learn to work within the confines of the bond,' such as it were.

          Thanks to all of you for reviewing: 

     AffectedMangoO, insanechildfanfic, Heala, HecateDeMort, J, Piper Of Locksley, prlrocks, and the Irreversible Anne (I always choose one reviewer to bestow a random adjective upon), as well as:

     DumDum124 (Do not fret! Though this chapter moved quickly, the next will return to being more IC.)

     anyana, (Thank God for the British, am I right? They make such lovely works to make slash fanfics out of)

     Adele as Always: : D I threw it in again, just for you. I may keep having him call Harry that; I rather like it myself. I think on some level Harry realizes…of course, in this chapter he got to just come right out and _say_ it…but most of the time I like him with at least a veil of innocence. Which he will retain, so long as I can keep it up. I like my Harry pretty clueless.

     AmericanWitch (my favorite line in this one was, "Yes, need a leash, definitely a leash for you…collar, leash, impractical leather-wear…" I like Remus just a tad out of control.)

  FallenPhoenix721, (the world _needs_ more Harry/Remus)

     Kireina1: High five in return!

     Poicale: I tried to keep the humor up in this one. Hopefully, it lived up to its potential.

     Budgiebird: So glad you're enjoying it! I think Remus is the _real_ star of the series.

     charlie-potter1: I update as quickly as I can, considering I'm working on several projects at once! : )

     Sweet Mercy: I _always_ try to end on a cliffie. Because I'm evil, you see.

     Tinkita: Come now, darlin' you know _everything_ I write is good. If I can sell middle-aged politician slash (see my GO fic), I can write _anything._ ; )

     Eric2: Werewolf mating is the epitome of Remus slash. I adore that bit.

     Jemma Blackwell: They'll get tortured more starting next chapter, but I think they got quite the treat in this one.

     Marshes to Banks: I'm afraid I'll have to attempt to by mysterious and keep mum on this one. If you guess my secret, you won't give it away, will you?

     Kudama: Thank you. I intend all of my fics to rock. Every day, in every way, we get better and better, no?

     silver-sunn101: Is it just me, or is lycanthropy rather sexy? Maybe it's just Lupin.

     Empress of the Eclipse: You're right; I had to go back and twist it a bit. Such is life.

     All right now; review me once more, ensuring you will be allowed into the kingdom of Heaven! Starry


	4. A Werewolf Mates for Life

TITLE: Research and Development Part IV; A Werewolf Mates for Life

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: R—the NC17 Version is at AFF and on my site

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Now that they've bonded, both Remus and Harry are tormented with guilt, each sure that the other didn't really want this. Stuck in Grimmauld Place, they dance around one another until someone realizes that something is wrong.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: ShadowPhoenix, Elizabeth

NOTES: FF banned me for awhile, and AFF was down. That's why you didn't get this a week ago. I wanted you to have it, I really did. Just remember, it's on my website first. Check my author page and make a note of it. K? All right, a bit more smut. Am I getting carried away with the smut? I seem to find myself enjoying writing it, for some reason….

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Part Four: A Werewolf Mates for Life

The moon began to rise. Remus felt it pulling at every follicle, twisting at his mind and muscles.

Snape grabbed hold of Harry's arm. "Out, boy," he snapped.

"But…"

"Now! Unless you want your own guardian to do unspeakable things to you." Snape's face was twisted into an angry sneer.

_But he already has…_Harry would have like to reply, but he wouldn't, really. Besides, Snape's hand was crushing his arm, thin fingers biting into his flesh, and he could only wince.

"_Don't touch him_," Remus snarled, and they both froze. _Dear Merlin,_ thought the werewolf,_ I'm getting possessive. Protective. This is terrible! I could rip Snape's throat out._ "You mustn't touch him," he managed. "And keep your mouth shut, for once. I _swear_, Snape, if you hurt him…" He couldn't control himself. He could not control the wolf.

"Professor," Harry managed to say to the Potions Master in protest, as he tried to pry his arm away, "You're _hurting_ me."

The sound that came from Remus caused everyone in the room to freeze, and Tonks to wet her pants. It was a low, menacing growl, a primeval noise made unequivocally to run straight up and down one's spine and affect the hind parts of the brain. Snape wrenched his hand away from his student before it'd even registered.

"I'll need to be near him," Remus heard himself say in a gravelly voice. It was no longer his voice, and it no longer voiced his own needs. Well, so be it, then. The path was chosen. "And you're going to have to be more careful with him. Watch yourself, Snivellus…" Somewhere inside that body, Remus flinched. He would never have called Snape that, but the wolf…the wolf had its own plans…The last thing he remembered, before the moonlight struck his body and burned through to his very soul, was the way Harry's wide, innocent eyes stared up at him with absolute trust—a trust that he'd already betrayed.

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Harry laid in the shadows, watching the Potions Master pace, his silhouette outlined by moonlight. He could not see the man's features, but he could _feel_ the suspicious glares being sent in his direction. He tried very hard to breathe evenly, pretending he was asleep. If he could even remember what it was to sleep.

His body should have been tired from the evening's activities—and it _was_—but his mind was wide awake, and going round and round in circles. He'd had sex with Remus Lupin. It was the best bloody thing that'd ever happened to him. He didn't think Remus felt the same way. About _anything_. He was probably _furious._ It hadn't been a quick shag in the Hogwarts' broom closet; they had _mated,_ and mating was forever. And, though Harry had been _sure _it was the right thing to do, it had turned out to be totally unnecessary. He'd gotten what he wanted, and shagged Remus Lupin—who would probably never forgive him. After all, hadn't Remus said _no_? Hadn't Remus told Harry he didn't _want_ that—that he'd been Sirius's lover—wonderful Sirius, whom Harry had _killed_? And hadn't Remus said that although Sirius was gone—_perhaps because of some totally scary, subconscious, Oedipus-like compulsion? God, please stop making me think weird shit like that_—that he hadn't been ready to move on? And Harry had convinced him to do it. Harry had—had practically _raped_ the man. Because he wasn't really of sound mind at the time, was he? Not with the wolf so close to the surface. Remus had no longer been in control. Harry had no illusions that Remus wouldn't have looked twice at him, otherwise. _Rape._ Not in the conventional sense, but when someone said no, you were supposed to take no for an answer. And Harry hadn't.

But Remus had seemed so eager, so willing. Was it _all_ just the wolf? Was there no fragment of the man's soul that had wanted this, before the wolf took control? How could anyone who wasn't the least bit interested have run such hungry hands over Harry's body? How could anyone have found that place deep inside him, and taken special care to pay attention to that one little spot, if they were so out of control? How could anyone have watched Harry lick whipped cream off his spoon like he was a wet-dream come true? And how could anyone, _anyone_, have had the patience and stamina to take Harry to such unbelievable heights in bed? Harry'd had sex with Remus Lupin. It was the best bloody thing that'd ever happened to him. But he didn't think Remus felt the same way…

In the room next to his, he could hear wolf paws pace the carpet, and his stomach squirmed a little at the idea that his lover was now covered with fur and walking on four feet. A wolf might be a beautiful creature to see in a natural setting, but the thought that he'd just had sex with one made Harry rather ill. He wondered if he could become an Animagus. Yes! That was a great idea! If he became an Animagus, something really good, something that could help control the wolf…maybe that would make up, at least in part, for forcing poor Remus into this arrangement in the first place…

They'd managed to make it back to Grimmauld Place, God only knew how—since Harry wasn't trained to Apparate and a wolf, of course, couldn't. They'd had to walk through Bedfordshire—they had apparently been kept in a cellar in Bedfordshire—until they found a place remote enough to signal the Knight Bus.

The Knight Bus was not keen to let Lupin on in his current form, although they had no idea that the wolf was really a man—or even that it was, at present, a wolf. Harry told them he was a dog. This led to a long and convoluted argument over the Bus's 'No Dogs' policy, which Shacklebolt eventually got round by claiming he required a seeing-eye dog—despite the fact that he was obviously not blind.

In the end, Harry rather thought it was Snape who'd got them on board, because all the waiting and anxiety and having had a werewolf subtly threaten to maul him had _not_ had a good effect on the man's nerves. And when Severus Snape was upset, he typically went looking for a likely victim and a way to make their life hell, and he found the perfect candidate in Stan Shunpike.

After about five minutes of serious discussion, the Potions Master drew himself up to his full, impressive height, and let loose on the spotty boy. "_Mister_ Snubtrout, or Snubcod, or whatever hideous name your forbearers managed to pass on to you, I don't care _what_ your pathetic excuse for a company's rules are. If we are not comfortably halfway to London in _ten seconds_ I am going to hex you within an inch of your life, and then I'm going to bring you back to Hogwarts with me and test out the first years' potions on you until there is no 'you' left on which to test them. In other words, _get the hell out of our way, point this monstrosity in the correct direction, and get this tin bucket moving!_"

And from there it was only a matter of minutes, and poor Remus's paws scrabbling on the floor of the bus as he tried to keep his balance, before they made it to London and, from there, to Sirius's old house.

Lupin had been led to the room next door, and Harry was put in the same room he'd shared with Ron last year, while Snape stood guard. At around two in the morning, Ron arrived and was put in with Harry who, by virtue of not wanting to explain anything or ask any particular questions but be left alone with his thoughts, continued to pretend to sleep.

At three, he rolled over on his side, ignoring Snape's sharp glance in his direction. He fingered one of the holes on his shirt that should have held a button—_accio buttons_ hadn't gotten them all—and he remember Remus's strong hands ripping it open. God help him, he was getting excited again. Being a teenager, he felt, was even more difficult than being the Boy Who Lived.

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The next morning at breakfast, most of the Order members had already arrived, and were seated at the kitchen table. Everyone looked horrible, but Harry felt no one looked worse than Lupin, although the Potions Master came close and, from what he'd seen in the mirror that morning, he knew he wasn't exactly a raving beauty, either.

The discussion, however stunted, revolved mostly around events of the previous evening. Molly had to ask several times whether Harry was _sure_ he hadn't been hurt, and kept picking at Remus to know what, exactly, had happened from the time they left the bookstore.

"I _knew_ it was a horrible idea to entrust Potter to that incompetent werewolf's clumsy care," Snape grated, a sour look twisting his face.

"Yes, of course, Severus," a tired Lupin responded, and the Potions Master looked tremendously offended to be agreed with so readily.

Harry sat down as far from Lupin as possible, and did his best to avoid the man's eyes. He could feel the weight of Remus's stare on him, and grabbed a piece of toast and busied himself by buttering it, even though he wasn't really all that hungry. The ever-expanding balloon of guilt in his chest was pretty much cutting off any appetite he'd had. Wiggling his feet under the table, he grunted a response to Ron's, "Hey, Harry."

A few moments later, Hermione rushed in and hugged him round the throat, causing the boy to nearly choke on his toast. He tried not to scowl as he pushed her away, but he knew that he was pretty transparent. Did he _look_ like he needed a bit of strangulation on top of everything else? Couldn't she keep her hands to herself for five minutes?

Remus gritted his teeth as the girl threw herself at Harry. Couldn't she keep her hands to herself for five minutes? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his aching muscles protest. Did Harry _look_ like he wanted to be smothered with affection? _Hardly. He _looks_ like the next time she tries that, he'll beat her over the head with Hogwarts, A History._ That thought was oddly cheering, and Remus tried to ignore it. When Harry finally glanced at Lupin afterward, Lupin tried to smile, but found he couldn't. Shoulders hunching a little, he averted his eyes from the boy. _Jealous sulks are _not_ becoming to middle-aged werewolves,_ he told himself sternly.

"What I don't understand, Harry, is how they ripped all the buttons off your shirt," Tonks commented, and the boy went bright red.

Still coughing a little, he took a sip of water to cover up his embarrassment. "Well, they just. You know, when they threw me in there, um. One of them didn't let go of my shirt right away, and it ripped." He ducked his head and shifted his hashers around on his plate.

"Supposedly, you're one of the wonders of the wizarding world, yet you can't even manage to keep your shirt on?" Snape lifted a lip in disgust.

"Enough, Severus," Remus said. His voice was quiet, but Snape's head still whipped around to stare at him.

"You've been _touchingly_ protective of the boy lately," Snape remarked, his black eyes glittering.

Remus took a small sip of orange juice. "If I am, it's only because you're giving me reason to be," he replied, arching a brow. "If you'll stop your behaviour, than I will, as well. On the other hand, if this escalates…"

Snape did not look intimidated at this point, but glared back at the werewolf. Molly finally interrupted their staring contest with a muted reproof that sounded suspiciously to Harry like, "…overgrown boys…" at least in part.

Hermione, in an effort to turn the conversation, annoyed Harry by asking, "Are you _sure_ you're all right?" yet again.

"_Yes_, Hermione. I am _fine_," Harry responded, exasperated. "Nothing happened to me. The only thing I was in any danger of was being bored to death by Lucius Malfoy's upper crust swanning. Well, yes, and the moon, I suppose." He glanced from Tonks to Snape and added bitingly, "Which reminds me; just what the _hell_ took you people so long?" Remus felt his gut twist. Harry could not have made his regret more clear.

"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone of voice, you mentally deficient ingrate—" Snape began to say, but broke off when Lupin, in shifting to become more comfortable, leaned quite close to him.

"You do _not _want an argument with me today, Severus. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense," Remus hissed, before settling back and resuming his ever-present mild expression. Snape stared.

"Well, you see, Harry," Tonks was saying reasonably, "there were a number of places they might have taken you, and Professor Snape wasn't sure which they'd chosen. So he'd had to scout around quite a bit."

Remus only half-listened as he watched Harry's face. And it _was_ Harry's face, not James's, no matter how many characteristics they had in common. It was very _like_ James's face, to be sure, but there was something indefinably _Harry_ about it. _Less masculine and more elfish_, he found himself thinking, _and the hair is messy, but in an understated way. Everything about the boy is more delicate, more passionate, more real. _Remus could not begin to guess if this was merely a result of the times they lived in and the pressure Harry lived under, or if James's memory had simply begun to fade. _He's less cocky, but he'll still be very bold, on occasion. His whole aura is sharper, and yet smoother, and prettier…he's more intelligent than James, in ways, and more compassionate, and more aware…_

Harry looked up to meet absorbing eyes. He swallowed and quickly turned away. _I used him. I used him because I needed someone to love and to touch and to fill this hole and this achy, foreign place inside of me, and he'll never be free again. What are we going to do? I can't bear the thought of being away from him. I want him, right here, right now. I suppose it's the bond. I want to sweep the dishes from the tabletop and crawl across it to him, and land lightly in his lap. I want to feel the skin of his neck between my teeth. I want to stare into those eyes forever. I want to tell him everything. _Abruptly, Harry stood, just as the door swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I've some news that must be shared with the Order members before I speak to you. I'll need you, as well as Ron and Hermione, to leave the room."

Ron immediately began voicing protests, but Harry grabbed hold of his arm and began the arduous task of dragging his friend from the room. "Never _mind_, Ron. I don't care _anyway_. Let's just get away from here, please?" He tugged at his robe a little, hoping Remus couldn't see his excitement.

Remus carefully kept his face wiped of his torrential feelings of dejection as he watched Harry leave. _Dear God. He was practically DYING to get away from my very presence. What have I done? He's stuck with me. Forever. _Then Remus thought it over a bit. _Well, perhaps not. If he doesn't feel the bond as strongly as I do, there isn't any reason he shouldn't…ignore it. He could move on and have a normal life. It would probably kill me—inside, if not literally—but at least I'd know he was happy._ Yes. He would simply tell Harry to renege on the whole mating scenario, and everything would be fine. Yes. _Merlin_, _even CONTEMPLATING giving the boy up hurts so much I'd rather chew off my own right arm…which is a distinct possibility, if Severus can't fix that potion…_ Shaking himself a little, Remus tried to come back down to earth, where Dumbledore was currently addressing them.

"I cannot say when Hogwarts will be safe for the students to reenter," the Headmaster was telling them, "But we shall be working diligently to make certain all traces of dark spells have been erased."

"Professor Dumbledore, can you tell us _why_ Harry Potter was kidnapped, yet Voldemort made no attempt to harm him or even see him?" Bill Weasley spoke out wonderingly.

"Ah, yes. Knowing that Harry would be at risk in Diagon Alley, I took certain precautions. Voldemort was simply led to believe that he could, in fact, destroy Hogwarts, and then turn his attentions to his prisoner. By the time he realized Hogwarts was not fully under his control, it was too late to deal with Harry. Unfortunately, once he _did_ become aware of our deception, he made time to leave a few nasty traps around the castle. But it hardly matters; Harry is safe, and Hogwarts will soon be restored to its previous harmless state—that is, as harmless as it _may_ be rendered, considering," the wizard gave a large, not unhappy sigh, shaking his gray head a little.

"But what do you mean, Albus?" Remus replied, staring at the man.

"Well, I, myself, would never have considered Hogwarts completely harmless, especially if I were intent on attacking it. Apparently, some of the suits in armor took affront to the trespassers, and…made them aware of their feelings, while the staircases did their best to herd transgressors into certain areas…on the whole, the castle made it's feelings toward Voldemort and his followers very clear."

"And you can't Apparate out…" Kingsley Shacklebolt pointed out with satisfaction.

"Indeed. We actually managed to catch a couple to hand over to the Ministry, although of course the majority had other tricks up their sleeves. Still and all, I believe it will be some time before Tom tries _that_ route again." Dumbledore paused a moment to polish his glasses, a very small smile gracing his features.

"It was a good fight," Tonks said smugly. "And we sure did trounce them."

"Yes…but knowing Voldemort, he'll soon try something else," Arthur Weasley pointed out.

"He plans to," Snape's velveteen voice broke in, managing to immerse the listeners and deride them at the same time. "He generally has several 'cunning strategies' going at once, and now that this one's failed, he's simply turned to another. I don't know the details yet, but we'll have to watch what goes into Potter's mouth, for once, rather than what comes out of it. The Dark Lord made me brew a potion that would track the person who took it—even to the ends of the earth—even on Unplottable ground."

"This is something we must keep a close watch on," Dumbledore noted. "Especially as it would be such an easy thing to slip into one's food or drink…" Remus remembered the dessert he'd made for Harry, and how deliciously the youth had eaten it.

"But that _wouldn't_ be easy, would it?" Tonks countered. "He'd have to know where Harry _was_ before he could even get the potion to him. And he doesn't know, so I don't see…"

Remus tuned out the conversation. He'd been kidnapped yesterday afternoon. He'd slept with Harry Potter the previous evening, although he didn't get any actual sleep. He'd spent the night as an animal, pacing and restless and fidgety. You'd think he'd be tired enough that he wouldn't _be_ getting excited at memories of Harry and his mouth. He fidgeted in his seat a little, and saw Severus giving him cagey looks from the corner of his eye. He forced himself to hold still, trying to concentrate on the discussion around him. This was going to be a very long meeting.

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"Harry! What's _wrong_ with you?" Ron was ranting, waving his arms in the air. "After what happened last year, don't you want them to tell you the truth? Why are you letting them shunt you to the side like your thoughts don't count?"

Harry flinched, looking away. He just couldn't _deal_ with all the plotting and problem-solving right now; he had enough on his plate. And it wasn't like he could concentrate with a dead sexy werewolf sitting across from him and staring with those stunning eyes. Not to mention the bond between them making him want to go straight to the man and _beg_ for it, and giving him a hard on right in the middle of breakfast, making his brain fry out and his tongue go numb… "Ron. I can't _do_ it right now, all right? I had a really exhausting night, and my brain is spinning in circles. The last thing I want is to sit and listen to all that major upheaval type of stuff, not being able to concentrate on any of it. I just…need to _do_ something, all right?"

Hermione gave Ron a chastising look, and Ron shrugged as if to say, 'Well, _sorry_! How was _I_ to know he's having a nervous breakdown? It's not like it happens all that often, you know!' "Er. Sorry, then, mate," he muttered. "We'll just…find a way to take your mind off it, then. How about a game of chess?"

"Nergh," Harry groaned rubbing his eyes. "No, not chess. I can't _think_ right now. I need something…I need to run around or something. Work some energy off. I'm _dying _from pent-up energy."

Ron looked puzzled. "You just said you were tired."

"My brain is, yeah. The rest of me's awake." Bits of him were _wide_ awake. Good Lord, he wasn't going to have any privacy, either, in the foreseeable future. He envied Remus. Obviously the man was not suffering any huge amounts of horniness because of the bond. He just sat there looking composed and tired. Damn him to hell or to Snape's classroom, which was infinitely worse.

"Well, they probably won't let you out on your broom…" Ron was musing.

"You know what I think you need, Harry?" Hermione's voice intruded on his thoughts. "You need to take a shower. It'll relax you a bit, and maybe you'll be more awake afterwards."

"Thanks, Hermione! That's a _great_ idea," he told her gratefully. "Yeah, I'll—I'll go do that right now." As he took the stairs two at a time he thought to himself, _Merlin, that girl really IS a genius._

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The next few days were miserable for both wizards. There, in Sirius's house, surrounded by memories of the man, his unhappiness with Grimmauld Place, and his death, Harry felt his insides writhing in agony at the thought that he'd seduced his godfather's lover, while Remus, with his guilt over jumping Sirius's godson, could not turn a corner without running into the ghost of his partner and friend.

On the other hand, he never, ever ran into Harry—at least, not alone. Ron or Hermione seemed to accompany him everywhere. Plus, the boy seemed to know just how far away the bond would allow him to be without destroying them both, and he took full advantage of the knowledge. He slept in the room next to Remus's, studied in a room just above where Remus was sitting, waited in the dining room whenever Remus was in the kitchen, and then switched for the kitchen when Remus came into the dining room.

It was a clever solution to the problem. It was subtle, it was not unduly unkind, and it gave them the space Remus supposed the boy thought they both needed. It was also eating Remus up inside. Everywhere he went, the boy was right there, if not in front of him, then right at the forefront of his mind. At night, he could not help but stare at the wall that separated their rooms, imagining Harry reclined in bed, his head dark against the pillow, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Every time he ran into the youth in the hallway or on the stairs, it took a mighty effort not to sweep the boy up in his arms and drop them both to the floor and let his desire spill over and consume them both.

He supposed it was the bond, working its magic. He really wished it wouldn't, because even facing the boy was hard enough without wanting to jump his bones all the time, as well. He knew he'd done a terrible thing, by taking Harry like that. He'd let James down. He'd let Sirius down. And God help him, he'd let himself down, as well. Hadn't he promised himself, from the first time he laid eyes on the boy, that the inexplicable tenderness he felt would never be allowed to become anything else? Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to help it. What was just a slightly-stronger-than-appropriate feeling of affection in the beginning had grown along with the youth. As his muscles toned, as his face lost the slight puppy fat it'd had, as his mind sharpened and he learned to start to make his first clumsy grasps at dignity, Harry Potter had become utterly irresistible. Well, the bond had probably helped.

One morning as Remus left the shower, only partially clothed and wishing he were dead, he started down the hallway and ran smack into Harry, the force of the impact jolting Remus libido up to high speed. Harry fell to the floor, and Remus had to rein the wolf in order to reach down and grab his hand, and not…grab anything else. "All right, Harry?" he asked quietly. The boy allowed himself to be helped to his feet, looking at the man with wide eyes all the while. He licked his lips once, twice, again. Then he turned and ran. Remus stared after him, sadness blossoming inside like a wound staining linen. Nothing could have made it clearer; the boy wanted nothing more to do with him.

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Harry was inconsolable. He managed to make it as far as his bedroom, where luckily Ron _wasn't_, at the moment, before picking up a pillow and hurling it across the room. He kicked it a few times, as well, and then stomped on it for good measure. Finally he picked it up and shoved his face into the soft cotton, squeezing it tightly as he let it absorb a few wrenching sobs. Why did Remus have to be _nice_ about it? Why didn't he just tell the fucking _truth _already? How could he stand to be kind to Harry after everything Harry had done to him? He shouldn't have helped him up. He should have…should have kicked him, or something! Should have told Harry what an evil, horrible, filthy little monster he really was instead of…instead of just…letting him get away with it. The door to his room clicked open and Harry spun, wishing crazily for a moment that it would be Remus, so that he could just throw himself at the man's feet and beg forgiveness.

Hermione was staring at him, her face marked with concern. "Oh, _fuck_," Harry moaned, his voice breaking. In frustration, he threw the pillow again. He went over to the bed and sank down, head in hands. His teeth were clenched, but it didn't seem to stop the pained sounds coming from his throat. He felt the bed next to him sag as his friend sat beside him.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, putting an arm around the boy. "I've seen you and Professor Lupin…you're both acting strangely. Please, tell me what's wrong."

Heart clenching and unclenching as though someone were squeezing their fist around it, Harry gave in and choked out a small part of the story. Hermione, luckily, seemed to realize this was not the time to push. She just listened carefully, nodded, and sympathized. In her mind, she filed everything carefully away for later analysis. Not that she would necessarily _do_ anything with the information…she just liked to have it all on hand.

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That evening, Remus was curled in a chair in the study, nursing a cup of tea and an aching heart, when the door creaked open. He glanced up, hoping against hope Harry might have forgiven him, and decided to at least seek his presence. He tried not to let his face fall as Hermione walked in.

"Hello, Professor," she said quietly, making her way to stand next to his chair.

"Oh…hello, Hermione," he responded as enthusiastically as he was able. "Why aren't you with Ron and Harry?"

"They're playing wizard's chess. Ron's trying to take Harry's mind off things. It would work better, I think, if he suggested doing something Harry would like, instead of always trying to get him to do stuff Ron wants to do. But…it's distracting Harry, at least." She gave him a brave smile.

"Ah. Well…that's good, then." He tried to think of something else to say to her, but for the life of him, could not. It was unnerving, the way those shrewd brown eyes evenly met his own. He looked away, searching his mind hurriedly for some topic of conversation. "So…read any good books, lately?"

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Harry was no longer playing wizard's chess with Ron, by the time Remus went looking for him. Ron was in his own bed, the light from outdoors casting a gentle shadow across his sleeping face, but Harry's bed was empty. Remus padded down the hall, peering into room after room, seeking out the person he was most terrified to face.

Finally, he had an idea—the veranda outside Sirius's parents' old bedroom. Harry was allowed to go there; it was practically the only place he was allowed to go that let him be…somewhat outside. He carefully opened the door to the bedroom, and slid past the massive, foreboding bed. It always made him uncomfortable to see it; it was this great, convoluted thing, all canopy and ropes and dark wood. Had Sirius really been conceived there? It was…inconceivable.

Ah, yes. Here was the little truant. Squatting uncomfortably on the deck, his head tilted back, his eyes reflecting the stars…but perhaps it was only his glasses reflecting the stars; Remus did not want to get carried away with romantic notions. Except…he _did_, really. The bond was doing very strange things to him. It made him want to pick the boy up and kiss his troubles away and cuddle him and worship him and spoil him rotten.

He quickly made his way out the door and stood before the boy, feeling awkward and frightened. What if Hermione was wrong? It _had_ happened in the past, however intelligent the girl was. What if Harry wanted nothing more than a complete and total deprivation of Remus Lupin? He gulped a couple of times, then cleared his throat.

Harry struggled with the engorging panic in his chest. Fuck. What if Remus didn't want him anymore? Hell, he'd never wanted him in the first place—not really. But what if Remus couldn't forgive him for everything he'd done? How could he ever explain what he'd been thinking; how could he articulate how terribly remorseful he felt?

Remus knelt beside him, and took Harry's hand into one of his own. It was so much larger, and warm, and safe. In Harry's befuddled mind, that hand held everything home could ever mean. Remus's eyes were caring and soft as he said, "Harry? I think. I think you've been avoiding me. I—I understand why you blame me, of course, but I. I'd like the chance to tell you how badly I feel, at the very least. I certainly don't deserve your forgiveness, so I'm not asking for that."

Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times. _Remus_ was sorry? Remus thought _Harry_ blamed_ him_ for all of this? An incoherent gurgle escaped from Harry, before his face crumpled and he buried his head in the man's neck. "Remus, I am _so sorry_," he gasped. "This was all my fault! I pushed you into it and you didn't even like me and you wanted Sirius and not me, never me, and my mum and dad died and they were your friends and I didn't mean to, I _really didn't mean to!" _Tears were splashing down against Remus's skin from those dark lashes. "And, and—I'm just so sorry and I don't blame you if you hate me forever but please don't hate me forever, I'm begging you, and I _swear_ I didn't mean to get Sirius killed, I _swear_, I swearIswearI—I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again for that, and I know I should have listened to you when you said no, and I'm _really, really_ sorry, I knew you couldn't help it and I did it anyway and—"

Remus tried valiantly to follow all of this, through Harry's tears and sniffles and the way his voice was muffled by the crook of Remus's neck. He stroked the boy's back, murmuring soothing, unheeded words. After a little while, when the youth had apparently cried himself into placidity, Remus pulled back, still holding him firmly by the arms. "_Harry._ Is this how you've been feeling? Why didn't you say something? I thought you were angry with me, or that perhaps you wanted space. Harry, listen to me; I've never been upset with you for _any_ of those things."

Remus stared at Harry, endeavoring to decide what to address first. Well. Start at the beginning, right? He took a deep breath. "Harry. In the first place, I _have _never, _would_ never, and _cannot imagine_ placing any blame upon you for the death of your parents. That doesn't even make _sense,_ Green Eyes. Of all the people in the world, you were the one that suffered the most by their demise. You couldn't have helped it, and you were in no way responsible for it. That was _Voldemort's_ doing, Harry. Not yours. Never yours. If Neville Longbottom, or Draco Malfoy, or Hermione Granger had been born to Lily and James, the exact same thing still would have happened. It had nothing to do with you.

"In the second place…Sirius's death was no more your fault than the deaths of Lily and James. You acted in Sirius's best interests, as far as you knew. What happened was a tragedy, but again, not one that you could have prevented. Not one that you caused. A series of events was set in motion that night that you could not have changed. You didn't know, Harry; you could not have realized that Voldemort had set it up. It was a very clever trap, one that far older and wiser wizards could have fallen for just as easily. And, in your place, I would be hard pressed to say I'd have done differently. Even knowing that it _might_ be a trap, as I surely would have guessed, would not have been enough prevent me from doing all I could to save Sirius. You were not in possession of all of the facts, you see, and had no way of knowing the truth." He carefully left out any suggestion that _he_ might have had just a little more patience in the situation, because that was only because he knew better.

Harry gazed up at him with huge, repentant eyes. "Really?" he whispered.

Remus had to smile a little. "Yes, really. Now, to address the rest of that…it was true that I was with Sirius, on and off, before his death. But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of wanting _you_. Of caring about you. Harry, you are a marvelous, kind, attractive young man. I feel quite fortunate to have even _met _you, let alone be allowed to care for you. And I _do_ care for you, and have for some time now. And although…this…bonding is perhaps not the way I would have chosen to go about it, I…cannot imagine anything more fulfilling than being involved with you." He ran a hand over Harry's jaw, and watched as the boy's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned his cheek into Remus's hand.

"But that's the _bond_ talking," Harry protested. "It isn't real."

"Maybe part of it _is_ the bond, Remus admitted. "But even before that, I did find you to be a very pretty boy. You did not force me into the bond; I wanted it. And while it is true that…the moon…gives a sort of…_edge_ to my appetites, it cannot force my heart to feel something it doesn't, and it could not force me to crave the touch of someone I had no feelings of attraction toward. Harry. I understand that this is frightening and difficult for you; you hardly have any understanding of what's going on, and I'm in the same position. We are just going to have to muddle through this the best we can. I'm going to need your help, though. I'm going to need you to be patient and flexible and understanding. This is a very odd situation we've been given, for certain, but I promise you that if we show each other trust, and work hard to communicate with one another, we can make this work. All right?"

Harry nodded, smiling tiredly. "I'm sorry. I thought…I thought you'd be angry with me. I thought you wouldn't want to see me anymore." Remus's hands were running through his hair, now, stroking and caressing softly, and Harry thought he'd never felt anything so good. "It's been hell, though," he confided. "I don't like being away from you. I—guess it's the bond, isn't it?"

Remus nodded. "Probably. I've been feeling the same way. I've craved your company and your touch—more than you could guess. This is one of the difficult aspects of the bond; we don't know _precisely_ how it should manifest, because we have no solid records to work from. All we can do is try to pay attention to how we are feeling, and make each other aware, and try to accommodate one another's needs."

Harry's head popped up. "Really? Er. Like…we could try to sort of be near one another, sort of thing?" he asked hopefully.

Remus smiled in response. "It's all part of the bond, Harry. We have to learn to deal with it in a constructive way. According to the book, it's perfectly natural to be having…desires concerning one another, and likely necessary to indulge them. It's the way we'll learn how the bond affects us. That's not to say, though," he added quickly, "that we have to do anything you don't want to do. If you don't want to do something, then that's fine: it just means the bond just isn't manifesting itself in that manner. But if you _do_ want something, you needn't be afraid to ask for it. You just need to tell me what you want, and what you're ready for."

Harry swallowed several times. What was Remus saying, exactly? That Harry would be allowed to touch him, again? He looked into the man's eyes, and saw the encouragement and expectation written there. "Er. It's just that—it's just that…" he felt his throat close up. How, exactly, could he phrase this? 'It's just that I _really, desperately _want you to do me again and again and again, every minute of every hour of every day, and love me and need me and never leave my side,'? Harry wriggled a little. "Um…I can't help…I want…"

"You want…?" Remus smiled teasingly at him, before lifting and shifting the youth's weight off of the cold patio and into Remus's lap, more or less. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry's ear. "Don't be afraid to tell me. Don't ever be afraid or uncomfortable to say anything to me. Go ahead. You want…" he prodded.

"I want…to sleep with you again. I want you. It's all I can think about, anymore," he confessed in a raspy voice. "It's driving me _crazy_. I just can't…all these things…images…floating around inside me head…God. I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on me. I want you on me and in me and all around me."

Remus breathed deeply, feeling the relief spread out and engulf him. He had been so sure the lust was entirely one-sided, and that he was going to suffer terribly while Harry was completely oblivious. "I want you, too," he murmured to the boy. "But I don't want to do anything you don't feel ready for. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to feel that we have to rush into this because of the bond. We have time to do this, Harry. We have all the time in the world."

Harry reflected that for the first time, Remus had just told him a big whopping lie. He had exactly as long as it took until Voldemort forced him into some big showdown, after which he'd probably be dead. But he appreciated what the werewolf was offering, all the same. It didn't really matter, anyhow. He wanted Remus, and he didn't want to wait. "No," he heard himself saying. "Don't be stupid. I don't want to wait. And you didn't hurt me the first time. I—I liked it. I liked it an awful lot."

Remus felt a stirring in his groin at this confession, and wondered about the wisdom of having pulled the youth into his lap. "Yes," he managed. "As did I."

He felt Harry twist round to look at him over the boy's shoulder, and was suddenly confronted by those bewitching eyes. Harry looked very serious as he said, "What should I call you?"

"Er. I don't know," Lupin replied, feeling a little light-headed. All the blood was slowly draining from his brain. "Anything you like, I suppose."

"I'd like to call you Remus, at least sometimes," Harry said quietly, and Remus nodded his consent. "But I can't call you that in public. Can I?"

"Certainly you may. I'm no longer your teacher, and I hardly think anyone would consider it inappropriate. It's fine, Harry."

"Well…I guess so. But I really still think of you as 'Professor.' Almost like that _is_ your first name or something. Isn't that funny? How you can tie a title like that to a person so totally that it's hard to separate the two?" Remus smiled at him affectionately. What a quaint way of thinking Harry had. "Would it be all right if I still called you Professor? I mean; would that bother you?"

"Not at all," Remus immediately replied agreeably.

"Good," Harry told happily. He shyly shifted a bit more and trailed a hand down Remus's cheek. "Professor," the boy breathed, and Remus's breath caught in his throat. The blood was leaving his brain very quickly now, rushing southward at a frightening speed. It was shocking how, with that one little word, Harry had unfolded an entire armada of previously unconsidered fantasies in Remus's head. He shuddered a little, and gently tried to push the boy just a tad further away. "Remus…_can_ we do that again? I want you. I want to touch you. I just…I guess it's the bond, but I…I really feel this…_intense_ need to have you with me."

Remus nearly fainted. Such attractive things should not be said by such an attractive boy. It was downright _dangerous_. "I—I'd like that very much," he said, and he heard how it came out as a moan. Harry was pressed back firmly against him, and he knew there was no way the boy didn't know that Remus did, indeed, like the thought of it very much. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

The boy gave him an impertinent smirk before wriggling in his seat again, smiling more widely at Remus's gasp. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Take me to bed, would you, Professor?"

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THANK YOUS:

Megan—Sorry, it was my first time and I didn't know what I was doing, Griffinomad, black unicorn, HecateDeMort, Special K, Tori, Leaflock—much gratitude, I shall continue to try to be worthy of writing Remus, Nova, Taka—sorry it couldn't get here sooner, Kireina1, Saavik13, Prongsblacks, Sweet Mercy, Stolen Dreamer, heala, Silver-Sunn101—aw, and you almost talked me out of it, too, Phat Kat—it was actually a last minute decision, and involved changing the plot a bit, so I even surprised myself!, Budgiebird—I have no idea why, but you're review made me preen more than any of the others. I think I've just wanted all my life to have the ability to draw an 'Oh my holy God' out of someone. Thanks!, prlrocks—I'm trying to keep some sort of plot, but sometimes I slip into pure smut…oh, well. Could be worse, I suppose!, Jemma Blackwell—What a great compliment! And I love puns. Especially bad ones. I like flirty Harry, too., Jen—Trying to keep this one just as hot, let me know if I succeeded!, Marshes to Banks—there will be a special scene in Part 5 just for you, since you like the idea…(and because I do, too—but Shh! Don't tell! That way it can be all your fault, and I had nothing to do with it!), Oh, and yeah, I guess there's a special scene for you in this one, come to think of it. You'll have to sing my praises long and loud for that, you know! ; ), Adele Sparks—I'm glad you liked the humorous coincidence. There had to be one, didn't there? I thank you, as does ShadowPhonenix, or she would if she knew you'd complimented her. I know this, see, because she's my best friend, and anyway I know everything. ; ) , Bound-to-Evanesce—Hot is what I'm going for. If I can do moving and funny as well, I'll be in business!, Eric2—Yes, I love love love the Remus mating fics. There are just not enough mating Remuses (Remi?) in the world!, AmericanWitch—lol, definitely one of your more entertaining reviews. But you're stealing someone's lines, I think! ; ) , kudama—well, of COURSE it is, it's just FILLED with my writing! Well, and ShadowPhoenix's, and Maya's (the Kingdom of Heaven surely contains a finished copy of Underwater Light….), Poicale—More Superwolf, on the menu. Yeah, now I'm having fun with the smut, too. Not that I don't like the REST of it, but…it sure is fun…, WanderingBeta—I'm always open to suggestions on other sites. Did you know those Nazis over at FF BANNED me for a week? I'm looking at PSA; what do you think?, Rosethorn2—Oh, I completely forgot you offered to beta, I was having such a rough week. Next chappie?, LadyDarkness13—It's the quality of the Remus that makes all the difference. You can't use an inferior Remus or, God Forbid, an artificially flavored Remus in a fic like this. ; ) , DumDum124—Well, I'll be happy if I can keep him sorta Remusish, and I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner!, Grey Requiem—I love Remarrys, too. There REALLY aren't enough of them. J'taime!, Immortal Memories—Yes, it was obviously meant to be in every sense, wasn't it?, HellPhoenixSirius—I didn't even realize I'd made Harry so impatient—it must have been a Freudian slip or something!, and of COURSE Xirleb70.


	5. Testing

TITLE: Research and Development Part V; Testing

AUTHOR: 

PAIRING: Remus/Harry

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Left alone at Grimmauld Place, Harry begins to realize what it means to be bonded—and what it means to be bonded to someone who cannot always be with him.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: The Succulent ShadowPhoenix, The Energizing Elizabeth

NOTES: If you REALLY like Remarrys, I urge you to check out the phenomenal everythingIsaid's list of EVERY REMARRY EVER WRITTEN, which can be found at wishforthemoon on Live Journal. It is the most fantastic thing since sliced bread. Really. Probably since before that, since sliced bread can't compare to a good Remarry. So everythingIsaid deserves to be worshipped for this truly astounding accomplishment.

THANK YOUS: At the bottom of the page. 

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Part Five: Testing

Remus carried Harry back to his own chambers around two in the morning, after doing a cleaning charm on them both. He encountered Molly Weasley in the hall, and was surprised by his own calm demeanor. "Harry will be staying in my room for a while," he told her smoothly. "He's not been doing well on his own." Which wasn't _exactly_ a lie…it was just a Gryffindor's way of telling the truth and still breaking the rules.

"Poor thing," she murmured. "I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead…" she must have caught him glaring at this point, because her voice faltered a moment before continuing. "But…well…I just…I'm glad he has _you_, now. I know you'll take good, _responsible_ care of him. Really, Remus…of anyone who might be in charge of him, I'm glad it's you. You'll be such a good role model, I just know it."

And then she made her way to check on Ron, leaving Remus to slip into his room, trying to hold back slightly hysterical laughter.

He woke several times during the night with an unfamiliar weight against his side, or a much-too-light arm across his middle. He ached every time, missing the accustomed burden of Sirius sprawled half-across him, taking up his eighty percent of the bed. He missed Sirius's snores, and even the frightened way he muttered things in his sleep, like he was trapped in the nightmare of Azkaban Prison again. Remus sighed a little. Harry was so light and gentle and _young_. It wasn't…_bad_, but it _was_ terribly foreign, and now, at night, surrounded by the routine creaks and groans of the Black family home, Remus felt sharply nostalgic. The dull pain in his soul cried out to Sirius—not necessarily even to hold him, to kiss him, but just…just for him to _be_, again—and the werewolf had to swallow against a suddenly tight throat.

It was odd, now he came to think about it, but he _didn't_ want Sirius back as a lover so much as a friend. And it wasn't the fact that he wasn't _here_ with Remus _now_ that hurt so badly as it was the fact that he wasn't _anywhere._ No more Sirius Black. Gone, like, like—something that left quickly, Remus supposed, coughing a little on the pain. And Remus was all that was left. Only during the dark of night could Lupin allow himself to be self-indulgent and wrap himself in a cloak of pity. Abandoned. Alone.

A sudden moan near his shoulder and Harry's small hand flexing instinctively on his arm brought Remus back from himself. The noise was a small, soft mewl of distress, and the werewolf remembered that he was not the only one to be missing someone; he was not the only one lonely, and aching, and overwhelmed. The quiet whimper morphed abruptly into a cry of pain, and Remus quickly had the boy in his arms, shaking him gently.

There was no effect except that the boy's eyes seemed to pinch up in pain. When Harry's hand flew to his forehead and his body curled into a tight ball of agony, Remus remembered belatedly that Harry had larger problems than he himself did. And he was supposed to be taking _care_ of Harry, for Merlin's sake. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Harry. Wake up." He shook the boy more roughly, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. Luckily, it did not take him as long as it would have taken Ron to realize that Harry could not be woken by normal means, and he quickly found his wand. "_Evigilus!_" he said, and the boy's eyes flew open. He sat up gasping.

"W-what happened?" he stuttered in a weak voice, looking wildly around.

"Too much sex and not enough Occlumency," Remus told him grimly. "It was my fault; I should have remembered. You had a Voldemort-induced dream, I think." He summoned a glass of water. "Can you remember any of it?"

Harry shuddered. "I don't particularly want to. Just that there was a meeting. He was…happy, I guess. No…I would kind of more say that he was…amused. He kept laughing. He's going to do something." He looked up out of large, helpless eyes. "He—he said it would be a good joke…"

Remus frowned sharply. "Can you remember anything else? Any details? Can you remember anyone else present? Faces, voices, posture?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "No…it's all very fuzzy now. Mostly all I remember is…fear. I felt like someone was chasing after me, but I wasn't running or anything. And nothing seemed to be pursuing me, but that's what it _felt_ like; it was like someone was reaching a hand out to snatch me up. _He_ was amused, but _I_ was terrified."

Remus wrapped strong arms around the boy. "All right. Don't upset yourself more by thinking about it. It can't be helped, at any rate. Here, just lean back into me and breathe deeply. All right?"

Harry nodded, the back of his head resting on Lupin's chest. Lupin's body was warm, and his arms an anchor to reality. He let his eyes slide shut, savoring the feel of the werewolf's tender embrace and strong heartbeat. He let a sigh out through his nose. "I…I'm sorry that I'm not better at Occlumency. It's just that Snape won't tell me what I'm supposed to be doing. He just attacks me and says, 'Fight me off.' He won't tell me _how_ I'm supposed to do it—other than, 'Clear your mind.' How can I _do_ that? You can't shut your brain off like it's a faucet," he complained.

Remus thought this over. "Let's try something. Now. Do as I tell you."

The reaction Harry's body had to this command was rather embarrassing. "Um. All right," he agreed cautiously.

"Keep your eyes shut. Breathe deeply and evenly." Remus was stroking Harry's arms and chest as he spoke. "Now I want you to pay attention to the sounds around you. Do you hear the cricket outside?" There _was_ a cricket, chirping intermittently, and Harry smiled. He was about to say, 'yes,' when Remus covered his mouth with one hand. "No, Harry. Just nod." Harry did, trying not to rub against Remus, which he really wanted to do, at the moment. It didn't matter. Remus still knew what Harry was thinking. "Harry. Stop that. I need you to concentrate. This is important; don't you dare think about disobeying me." Harry let out a frustrated whimper at this, and Remus sighed. "Are you having a difficult time taking this seriously?"

"Noooo," Harry moaned. "It's just. That. Could you be bossy some other time? Like…when you _don't _want me to focus on something besides my sexual fantasies?"

Remus stiffened. "What—do you—_Harry_," he stuttered, sounding just a little bit scandalized. "Are you trying to tell me that that…_excites_ you?"

"Well…yeah. I mean; it's not like I can help it or anything. You make me sit here all close to you with my eyes shut and then you go and use your husky _bedroom_ voice and you start getting…strict, telling me to _do_ things and not disobey you…yeah, I can't help it; I'm getting kind of hot."

Remus hid a smile. He had to remind himself several times that it was just the bond; Harry would ordinarily _not_ have found this a turn on. But it was still awfully flattering. "All right," he managed, trying to choke back his amusement and rising desire for the boy…who was just as randy as he was, at the moment. It took him a few minutes to realize that he'd completely lost his train of thought. "If you do this for me now, I promise we'll do anything you want, later," he offered, and felt the boy shudder violently with desire.

"Anything?" Several of Harry's more improbable—not to mention kinky—fantasies ran quickly through his head.

"Only if you do well tonight," Remus bargained, although he was suddenly distinctly curious about what sort of sexual appetites Harry had. If 'bossy' was a turn on, how would he feel about discipline, bondage, role-playing? With a gasp, he had to push the boy away. They were _never_ going to be able to sleep if this kept up! Harry kept his eyes closed, but reclined against a pillow with a far too cheeky half smile on his face. Remus growled at him. "_Shut up_," he ordered huffily.

Harry only laughed. "I didn't _say_ anything," he protested.

"Yes, well, your face said it for you. So tell your face to shut up, then. Impudent little siren that you are. Now. We are going to _try_ something, and it does not involve sex. Got it?" Remus shut his own eyes, trying to capture his own calm. "Quiet now, Harry. Listen to the noises of the night. Listen to the regular rhythms around you. Can you hear your breath? Can you feel your chest rise and fall? Focus on that. Can you hear the clock on the wall? Listen to it, Harry; breathe with the clock. Two ticks in, two ticks out. Focus on the sound. Focus on the night. Nothing else exists; not even me. There is no reason to be frightened or angry or happy or excited. There is only the clock. Breathe in….breathe out…listen to it, Harry. Everything is dark and still. Everything outside of your heartbeat is silent. No one can get inside your head, because nothing exists outside your head. There is only your heartbeat. There is only your breath. Breathe in, Harry. Breathe out." As Remus spoke, he could feel the boy's body becoming more and more relaxed, melting into a sort of puddle beside him on the bed. He kept speaking in a lulling, low voice, repeating himself, until he was certain Harry had fallen asleep. Just before Remus drifted off himself, he wondered why every aspect of his life had to be so difficult. Why the hell had he gone and fallen for someone destined to save the world? After grumbling to himself for awhile, while he teetered right on the edge of sleep, a tiny voice inside his head seemed to whisper an answer to him. He would not remember it when he awoke, but at the time, it seemed to say, "…_because you have something. Something worthwhile to offer him…_" Remus snuffled a bit as his mind was tangled up by a passing dream. Somewhere in his soul, a long-forgotten sense of pride twitched, just a little.

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The next morning, Remus discovered there was Order business to attend to. It was an errand outside of Grimmauld Place, and the werewolf found that he was not pleased with the news. Neither was Harry.

"But you _promised_ we could do _anything_ I _wanted_," the boy told him, in what could only be described as an obnoxious whine. "Didn't I do good? Did I do something _wrong_?" He glared at the man, who was in the process of dressing himself to leave.

Remus knew the boy was only trying to bait him, which was the reason he was able to answer serenely. "Well, Harry. Not 'good.' Well. And yes, you did well. You did wonderfully. I said we _would _do anything you wanted, but I did not specify _when. _And you shall be rewarded at a later time. I do _not _wish to have to explain to you, every time this occurs, why it is important that I fulfill my duties as directed. I understand that in many ways you are still a child," he added. "But I find it rather irksome that just now, you happen to be acting like one." He gave Harry a stern look, and the boy looked abashed.

"All right, then. I understand that it's your responsibility and all. But…Remus…" Harry trailed off, looking unhappy.

"I'll miss you, too," the werewolf sighed, looking rather distracted.

"I'll miss you a _lot_," Harry said in a quiet voice, looking disturbed. "It's just…we haven't been away from each other, before…I'm kind of…I. I don't know how I'll react, or anything. The further you are away from me, the more it hurts. It hurts a lot. I feel. Like you need to be in the same room. I feel. Like someone is ripping me open, whenever you're not there."

Remus finally turned to look at the boy—really look at him. He gave this some thought. Harry was right, after all. The bond made them crave each other's company—_need_ each other's company, like air or water. They could not be apart for long. "Harry…" he finally whispered. "We won't know how this will affect us until we experiment with it a little bit. I will be very aware of how I'm feeling, knowing that it likely correlates to whatever you are feeling. And if it becomes singularly painful, I will make poste haste to be at your side. I will try not to go too far, and I will try not to be gone too long. But Harry, it is _very _important that we test the limits of the bond, and also that we be strong in the face of it's limitations. We cannot simply accept what is given us. We do not have that luxury. Do you understand?"

Harry watched him unhappily. He didn't understand, not really. What he knew, really _knew,_ was that being away from Remus would be hell. Sheer, absolute hell. But _Remus_ felt that it was important, and that was what mattered. He had to trust the man. Maybe he wouldn't like it, but he would do it, all the same. "How long do you think you'll be away?" he murmured softly.

"Perhaps overnight," Remus replied on the exhalation of a breath. Harry blanched. Lupin could read his face like a book. It said, _'That long?'_ Remus sat beside the boy, running his fingers up and down the nape of Harry's neck. "I understand. Trust me when I say that I will not let it…get out of control. I know this will be difficult, but you are strong, and I believe you will survive. Remember, I will be longing for you, as well."

At this, Harry began to get just a little sulky. "I really _doubt_ you'll be missing me the way I'll miss you," he grated. "_You'll_ have other things to occupy your mind, and _you_ won't be stuck in this horrible house, all alone." It was true; Ron and Hermione were going to Diagon Alley with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to pick up their school supplies, but Harry was not allowed to accompany them. "Besides, _you're_ not a sixteen year old boy with a raging libido." Harry flushed a little as he said it, but he let it stay said. "And the bond only makes it worse."

"I know that, Harry," Remus replied calmly. Would _nothing_ ruffle the man? "And the bond is affecting _me_, as well. A werewolf's senses are particularly sharp, and I…can become stimulated just from your scent. Don't try to tell me you're the only one suffering. And although my mind will _hopefully_ be occupied, I anticipate some difficulty keeping it on the set task. And no, I _won't_ be all alone and that, too, is something I envy you. How much fun do you think it will be for me, trying to hide my yearnings for you from the other Order members?"

Harry looked slightly mollified by this, but still sighed exaggeratedly. "I don't want to sleep in the room with Ron again, but I have the feeling I'm going to _hate_ sleeping in your room without you. This whole stupid house is so big and creepy; I always feel like someone's watching me."

Remus gave him a wicked smile. "Pretend someone _is_ watching you," he suggested. He placed a small kiss behind the youth's ear. "Pretend that _I'm _watching you, and that I can't touch you, but I'd like to watch you touch yourself…" He grinned at Harry's groan, and nipped quickly at his earlobe. "I want you to touch yourself while I'm gone," he breathed heatedly, his mouth less than an inch away from Harry's skin. "I want you to imagine all the games we're going to play when I return." He paused to slide his tongue in and out of the boy's ear a few times, earning a succession of fingernails embedded suddenly into his thigh, clenching and unclenching in the manner of a cat. He listened to Harry's rapid breath for a few moments before continuing. "I want you to give serious consideration to what you'll want as your reward. After all, there aren't going to be very many times I offer to do whatever you like. I think you ought to give thought to what you'd like to do and to how long you think you can hold out, and you probably want to think of a plan to make yourself last as long as possible. Oh, and don't forget your Occlumency before going to sleep." He pulled away, still smiling in a vaguely hungry fashion.

"What about you?" Harry panted, hands drawing patterns on the man's chest. "How are _you_ going to manage to hold out?" A forceful mouth abruptly ate off whatever else he had to say, the velvet heat of Remus's tongue driving in and claiming Harry's breath as his own.

Remus finally pulled back and stood, doing up the last few buttons on his shirt. "Oh, don't worry about _me_. I have enormous willpower, not to mention werewolf stamina. Now, I'd better be on my way. You _will_ behave yourself, while I'm gone?" He gave Harry a warning look, and the boy moaned with frustration before nodding. "Good." He bent and gave the youth another kiss, this one much more gentle. "Take care of yourself, Green Eyes." He stepped into the hall, and Harry followed him to the front door, where he was joined by Shacklebolt. "Ready, Kingsley?" The man nodded, and waved a goodbye to Harry before leaving the house. "Oh, and Harry?" Lupin called over his shoulder in a deceptively casual voice, "Don't forget. I'm watching you." He strode out, shutting the door behind him.

_Damn dirty werewolf, _Harry snarled in the privacy of his head. _I can't BELIEVE_ _he just did that to me._ Then another thought occurred to him. Ron and Hermione would be in Diagon Alley until evening, probably, and the house was almost deserted. With a disgruntled huff, he went to spend the day in Remus's room, where his hand was going to make a damn poor substitute for Remus's mouth.

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Once in the sweltering heat of Remus's enclosed bedroom, Harry paced restlessly awhile. He couldn't really draw the curtains; it would be far too exposing. But the house was so hot in the lazy summertime that the idea of curling up amongst the thick blankets of the bed was not to be borne. Even _looking_ at the wool and cotton made Harry feel sticky and uncomfortable. He tried pawing through the werewolf's things, just to find something personal enough to give a sort of attachment to the absent man, but there really wasn't anything. Remus did not have money, and his possessions were few. _Oh, well._ Harry supposed the bond would just have to be enough of a link to Lupin.

Shoulders slumping, he went and sat in the lumpy armchair near the fireplace. He missed his…what was he? This question shocked Harry down a different avenue of thought. Remus wasn't his _boyfriend_, exactly—he was much too old to be referred to in such a silly, trifling manner. And even though they were bonded, they weren't exactly married. Harry couldn't call Remus his husband, and the thought of doing so was extremely odd. Mate? It sounded a tad impersonal, like the bond was the only important thing they shared. His lover, then. _Remus Lupin is the lover of Harry Potter, _he tried out for size. He had to admit he liked the sound of that. It carried with it a promise of romance and emotional fulfillment, as well as physical gratification and helped to counterbalance the cold matter-of-factness of the bond itself. He smiled a little.

_So…I miss my lover._ Harry was unhappy to find that he _did_ already miss Remus; he missed him rather desperately. He was beginning to realize that the bond's forced emotional dependence was every bit as potent as its surges of lust. He looked about the room, eyes falling on the comb left on the dresser. He got up and went over to it slowly, where he held it up and pulled a few brown and silver strands from its teeth. The gray in Lupin's hair was really quite sexy, when he thought about it. He turned the comb over and over, wishing the man had left more behind to comfort him. At the same time, part of him appreciated the fact that Remus's life was not strewn with useless odds and ends. He lived a Spartan life, and that somehow made him seem more immediate, more vital. Well, it did when he was _around_, at any rate. God, he _really missed_ Remus. Something in his chest felt like it was about to shrivel up and die. He felt as though something had been stolen from his soul—something he urgently needed.

Harry went back to the armchair and flopped down, shutting his eyes. _Oh!_ That was nice. With his eyes closed, Harry realized that the chair smelled of Lupin. The man must sit there often—reading a book, or sipping a cup of tea, or…imagining Harry, perhaps? Gazing at the wall that, until recently, had separated them, licking his lips wetly, trailing his hand down his body…? Harry gave a sharp intake of breath. What had Remus said? _Pretend I'm watching you…I'd like to watch you touch yourself…_ Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he pictured Remus sprawled on the bed, staring at Harry with the same avaricious expression he'd worn the day he'd made Harry that dessert.

"Oh, _Remus,_" he whispered, trailing his fingertips up and down his bare skin. Pushing out of his trousers, he shifted his hips so that he faced the bed more. "God, I want you. Want you so bad." He ghosted his palm over his hardness, watching fantasy-Remus's lips part, seeing his chest rise and fall excitedly. "Mmph. Merlin, you look so good. Love the way you look at me." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, and quickly slid them down. He was still focused on the face of a man who wasn't—_really_, after all—present. Dream-Remus, _imaginary_-Remus, but Damn-Well-Good-Enough-For-Now-Remus pursed his lips a little, letting his tongue dart out once to flick at the corner of his mouth. "Ungh…" Harry responded while letting his body take control in earnest.

He lifted his legs, bracing his feet on the arms of the chair, and stroked himself vigorously. In his mind's eye, he saw Lupin was suddenly naked, and matching his strokes along his own length. "Ohhhh…." Harry was devoutly thankful that Grimmauld Place held almost no one at the moment, and that Remus's room was off the beaten track. "Remus…Merlin…Remus…_yes!_" Harry cried.

Sated, he curled up in a ball, still feeling pangs of loneliness for his lover, and wondering how on earth he'd be able to restore the seat before the fireplace to its previous, unstained state. He really couldn't ask Hermione if she knew any spells. He hoped Remus would return soon…Life was much too hard, when you were that way all the time, as well.

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Late that afternoon, Ron slipped into Harry's room with a conspiratorial grin. "Hey, Harry," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Got you something." Harry smiled back, feeling guilty that he hadn't spent much time with his friend lately. Ron was a great guy, always there for him, never pushing him into talking about uncomfortable subjects, and often finding fun ways of taking Harry's mind off his problems. Which was definitely a trait Harry could appreciate at the moment. He watched as Ron ducked his head out the door, making sure no one was around. "Sorry about that. These would get me into hot water with Hermione if she knew I was giving them to you. Courtesy of George and Fred." He rolled his eyes as if to bemoan his hen-pecked state, but Harry just smiled in response. Ron might act like Hermione was a big trial, but Harry knew better.

"What're these?" he asked, accepting a lavishly wrapped little box. Opening it, he found what looked like a container of multi-colored pebbles. He looked blankly up at his friend, who was beaming almost evilly.

"The twins' latest," Ron exclaimed. "They're bloody brilliant. First they turn Zonko's on its head, and now they're going to give Honeydukes a run for its money. Go on—try one! They're brilliant!"

Rather cautiously, Harry popped a small white pebble in his mouth. He was almost instantly overwhelmed by a strong flood of marshmallow. "Ack!" he gagged, spitting some out, into his hand. It wasn't that it tasted bad—it was just that there was so _much_ of it!

Ron promptly burst out laughing. "Sorry, Harry, but your face! Succulent Spitters! Fred and George's newest gag gift—with a lot of gag, I have to admit." He looked slightly contrite when Harry shot him a dirty look. "There actually not bad, when you get used to them. They're just really concentrated candies. Here, have a blueberry one—it's my favorite flavor."

Harry shook his head ruefully. He should have known any gift from Fred and George would be hazardous to his health. Still, it _had_ tasted pretty good. He stared down at his fingers, which were dripping with white goo. He absent-mindedly took the proffered blue candy, and was sure to bite it in half, rather than put the whole thing in his mouth. His palate was flooded with juice, and he rolled it around on his tongue contemplatively. The muck on his hands reminded him vividly of his werewolf, who wasn't due back until God only knew when. It struck him that he'd never tasted Remus. Shuddering with unanticipated desire, he stood up quickly. "I think I'll take a nap before dinner," he announced to Ron. "Thanks for the candy."

"You want a nap _now_?" Ron looked at him dubiously. "But it's not even five in the afternoon! Have you been having nightmares again?"

"Er…well, _yes_ actually," Harry admitted, glad of the excuse. "But Remus found a crackerjack cure for them, and I think I'll have less, now. But I had one last night, at any rate, so I'm kind of knackered. D'you mind?" He rose and fell on the balls of his feet, looking at his friend anxiously.

"No…I guess not." Ron shrugged unhappily, and headed out to find Hermione. "You will be at dinner, though, won't you?"

"Oh, yes," Harry assured him. Then he brandished the bag of candies. "So long as I don't ruin my appetite!" Ron grinned and waved, shutting the door behind him. Harry sat at the foot of the bed, heart twisting in new and disagreeable ways. Why did Remus have to be gone? It wasn't _right_. He should be _here_, with _Harry_, where the youth could adore him in comfort. Adore. Did he really _adore_ Remus? The short and altogether honest answer was 'yes.' Remus was sweet and kind and clever and unimaginably sexy, so of _course_ Harry adored him. He felt his mind backpedal guiltily; it was the bond, though, really. He wouldn't be trying to jump the poor man's bones at every given opportunity, and worshiping the ground Remus walked on if not for the bond. He should probably try to keep that in mind.

Staring at fingers covered with white dribbles of sugar, Harry avidly licked himself clean, before flopping down on the bed with his eyes trained on the ceiling. _When_ was Remus going to come _back_? He wasn't sure he was going to be able to stand pining for the man much longer.

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Harry heard Remus return just before midnight. He hadn't been able to sleep, although he'd dutifully listened to the clock and his heartbeat as a sort of substitute Occlumency. He had at least managed a light doze, when he slowly became aware of voices downstairs. Adult voices. Listening, he was _sure_ that one of the voices was Lupin's. Excited, he had just tumbled out of bed and was trying to navigate into his pajama bottoms—which had been surrendered to August's roasting humidity—when the bedroom door creaked open, and Remus stepped in.

The werewolf stood in the doorway for an endless moment, mouth open, eyes riveted to the boy in the center of the room—who was, except for his ankles, entirely naked—before Lupin suddenly came to, and had the presence of mind to shut the door. Harry looked shyly at his feet, sure the man would be angry with him for almost letting the cat out of the bag, but after a long silence, he worked up the courage to meet Remus's eye.

Lupin was smiling broadly. "Well, that _is _a pretty sight to come home to, I must say." His eyes twinkled with good-natured greed, and Harry laughed with a sudden breathless affection. Kicking his pajamas back off, he leapt at the man, who caught him neatly, pulling the youth into an erotic embrace. "And _such_ a welcome," Remus breathed, placing almost-too-light kisses across the bridge of Harry's nose. He pulled back, looking intently at Harry. "I missed you, Green Eyes."

Harry's eyes darkened with want at the simple admission, and he pressed his lips to Lupin's, tongue asking polite entrance to the other man's mouth. After a slow, wet, and much-needed kiss, Harry panted, "Missed you more." Remus chuckled softly, the noise reverberating through their bodies, and Harry squeezed his eyes in heavenly bliss. He pressed his face to the man's skin, inhaling the wild, fresh scent of him. "Hurt so bad without you. I worried—I worried that the bond wasn't working on you like it was on me. That you—you'd want to leave. That you'd want to leave me." he muttered, and felt Remus's arms tighten round him.

"I'm so sorry," Remus whispered fiercely. "I know it hurt, lover. It hurt me, too." He began shifting his weight from foot to foot, rocking them both from side to side in a gentle rhythm. Nuzzling the youth's wayward hair, the werewolf was growling soft, sweet phrases, assuring Harry that he was wanted and loved. "I'll never walk away from you. Never. You are my _mate_. You are _mine_. You belong to me. I'll always come back to you, Green Eyes. Always."

Harry smiled brilliantly at him, taking Remus's breath away. _Merlin, doesn't the boy realize what an incredible beauty he is? How could anyone one walk away from that smile? How could anyone resist those eyes?_ Kissing the youth tenderly, he set Harry on his feet and gave him an encouraging wink. "Why don't you crawl back into bed, and I'll join you once I've washed up."

Harry sighed, but pulled his pajamas on and climbed into bed. "I don't see why," he called as Remus entered the bathroom. "You'll just have to do it again when we're finished, anyhow."

Remus felt the laughter swell up inside him once more, and marveled at it. It had been a very long time since he had been this happy this often. "Because naturally, no one could keep their hands off of your nubile body, hmm? You seem awfully sure of yourself, young Mister Potter," he teased, scrubbing his hands under the hot water.

Harry considered this. "Well, I guess it's the bond. After all, you probably feel a lot like however I'm feeling. Therefore, I deduced that you must want to screw me silly right now. Besides, I have this candy I want you to taste." He tried to keep the smile out of his voice, but knew Remus could hear it as clear as anything, especially since a peal of laughter emanated from the bathroom in response.

"Oh, my sweet little Green Eyes," Remus sighed, coming out to lean against the doorframe. "You are a caution, you know that? An absolute caution."

Harry gave him a lopsided smile, feeling a bit uncertain. "A caution, huh? So…is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"On you? I'd say it's an excellent thing." Remus grinned carnivorously, and Harry scooted back on the bed. The werewolf sat down across from him, eyes blazing as he raked them over the boy's bare skin. "Now, why don't you come over here so I can ravish you properly?"

Harry slinked over the covers to straddle the man's lap, leaning forward to lap his tongue over Remus's neck. The man shivered with desire and found a hand in front of his mouth. Balanced on Harry's fingertip was what appeared to be a little white pebble. "What's this?"

"Try it," Harry suggested, his lips twitching. Remus shrugged, leaning forward and taking the treat into his mouth, along with most of Harry's index finger. As soon as the candy came in contact with Remus's saliva, a torrent of flavored nectar gushed forth. It was more than Remus could comfortably handle, and quite a bit of it ended up running down his chin, as well as over Harry's hand. Harry sniggered softly.

"You little devil!" Remus exclaimed when his mouth was less full. "You _knew_ that was going to happen." He went to wipe his chin with the back of his hand, but Harry had already leaned forward to lick kittenishly at the sugary mess.

Harry was still giggling a little. "Ron got me with one earlier. A present from the twins." He trailed his tongue over Remus's adam's apple, undressing the man at the same time. "Brilliant bastards that they are," he added happily. "I told you not to wash up. Now I'm going to have to lick you clean again."

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An hour later, the two were lying in bed, sated and drowsy. Harry snuggled close to the man, who stared down at the sleepy face with a mixture of wonder and sadness. It was good to see Harry like this. He could not remember such contentment on the elfish face—ever. But at the same time, he knew he should _not_ have been the cause of the emotion written there. It should have been someone younger, healthier, less world-weary. It should have been someone better. He cupped the thin face with one of his large paws. "Get back into your underwear, you little scamp," he instructed. "God forbid Molly Weasley decide to check on us for some reason, and find you looking like a debauched cherub, sprawled naked across my chest."

Grumbling, Harry yanked on his underwear, and struggled with his pajamas. As if the warning had come to life, an inauspicious knock sounded on the door. "Remus, dear?" Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded panicked. "Is Harry with you? Hurry, please! There's a problem!"

Remus was not an Auror—the Ministry forbade werewolves from employment there—but that did not mean he was without excellent instincts. Without a thought, he hoisted Harry—who squawked at the indignity—up and headed through the door. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Outside," Molly gestured frantically, and Remus took the steps two at a time, pausing only to make certain the stout woman was right behind him. He shooed her out the front door first, and had barely followed down the front steps when a loud crack split the night behind him.

Without hesitation, Remus threw himself and Harry to the lawn, covering the boy's body with his own. He did not need to look behind him to know what had happened. The street in front of them glowed orange, and a roaring, crackling noise filled the air. Greasy smoke was pouring out, tumbling into the sky.

There had been an attack on Grimmauld Place, and explosion and fire were the least of the Order's problems. Remus shivered in the cooling evening air, despite the inferno at his back. Harry Potter was now completely without protection from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

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Katte: I'm glad you're enjoying it. Bows deeply, à la Granny Weatherwax Wow. The graphic stuff is on AFF. This stuff I thought was pretty mild. Of course, I'm a terrible judge about that sort of thing, and I have no shame whatsoever.

Leeanna-Marie-Malfoy: Believe it or not, it has an actual ending planned. Whether I get there is something else again, but I'll never leave it hanging! Scout's honor!

Tsutsuikimihiro: Thanks! Your name sure is a mouthful!

Phat Kat: Ah yes. That chapter was specifically written with suffering band camp members in mind. Tailored to suit!

Hakkai - Gojyo - Goku – Sanzo: I look forward to a lot more of the 'mirror feeling' as I'm calling it. I like it when they feel the same, and don't know it. Of course, I'm completely evil. HellPhoenixSirius: The dirty stuff…er…the 'more intimate stuff' is on AFF (bugger which is down again) and my own site. Only unbeta-read on my site, 'cause I'm so lazy. Don't hate Hermione! She's very insecure deep down. I was a lot like her as a kid. I wasn't pretty, so I was smart in self-defense. Plus, she's a GREAT plot device!Prlrocks: It's going to get hard on them. I like complications—they make a story last longer. Protective Remus—especially when he can't help himself and is rather bewildered by his own actions—is too much fun to write. There will be more of him in further chapters.Eric2: I haven't considered Mpreg or adoption. That's all farther in the future…but at any rate, what was easy to hide at first is going to become a whole lot more difficult in later chapters…Poicale: A lot of people seem to like Superwolf, and I only threw him in during a moment of whimsy. These guys want to be silly when I'm trying to do angst, but I have a hard time arguing. Superwolf is just too cute. The smut is a lot of fun! If only AFF were up more often! I post it on my site, too, but it's kind of shoddy. I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm an artist, dammit, not a computer tech!My favorite Adele Sparks: Forget the thanks, when are you going to write more?! I want to read more stuff from you! Get it in gear! I don't care if you jot notes about SMURFS, for heaven's sake, I love your style!…I have a thing for suits of armor. I'd really like one for my house. That and a Jason Isaacs of my own…corinnetkn24 : I keep trying for angst, but Harry and Remus seem to want sweet fluff. I try to give them what they want, at least in small doses.Silver Phire: I was banned for 'Offbeat' which is now tarted up and on AFF. Where I can be as smutty as I like. Even if it falls to pieces every time you look at it. I try to write fairly quickly…long ago, I was the update Queen. What did I do with my scepter???…Immortal Memories: Possessive Remus is way cute. Just the way God intended him to be, no doubt. Or the devil. You have to blame SOMEBODY, right?Wandering Beta: I've only recently gotten onto the Inkstained Fingers thing, and it really IS pretty good. Which is why I read more than I write, these days. I've also applied or whatever at PSA, but their instructions are BAFFLING. I had no idea what I was doing, which is a pity, because their site is out and out great. I would LOVE it if you would beta me; I'm always on the lookout for another beta. Send me your e-mail, and you shall have my next chapter, as soon as my lazy butt gets around to finishing it. Merci!Tinkita: Your name always makes my roommate giggle, which worries me. He has no idea how to be macho. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself; I'm trying very hard, and this whole smut/romance is very new to me. It's a hard line to walk, but I do my best.Dreamdancer, Dracula5555, charlie-potter1, Kireina1---because he loved him like whoa, for the five minutes that he knew him. Sorry, I just adore Cleolinda. I'm not going to quit here, but I've made a pact with a demon (Crowley) that'd I'd put it on my site first, and AFF when it's available. Which it never is. But I'll post it everywhere. I'm kind of a post-slut, I guess.Rosethorn2: Er. Guess what I forgot? Sheepish foot-shuffle I know it seems a bit rushed. Part of this is because I promised myself two sex scenes per chapter. I have no idea why. Crowley made me do it. Or ShadowPhoenix, since she's my honorary scapegoat. But really, it's kind of a writing exercise, trying to get me comfortable with doing smut. Also, I want enough smut that they're not actually THINKING, because that comes later. Right now, I'm afraid my boys are being led around by their dangly bits. Marshes to Banks: Well, it lacks the gold bars and Jason Isaacs chained to my bed, but other than that; your reviews are quite passable. ; ) This one kind of lacks angst, because the characters WOULD NOT cooperate. But also because for the next few chapters, they just DON'T REALIZE what's going on. They don't want to analyze, because they're enjoying each other. This will come into play later, but for now they're having a little fun. Not that there won't be ANY angst…but fun is good, too. More leash in the next couple of chapters. Because I like it, too.StolenDreamer: If you read the AFF version, they should shag around 2x per chapter. Because I wanted them to; I don't know why. I just think it's good for both of them, you know? Harry needs the experience, Remus needs the affection…and that's a good thing. silver-sunn101: ShadowPhoenix helped me out with the Stan bit, and Elizabeth kept Snape in character. I adore Snape, because he's really so much like me. And the strange interplay between him and Remus in the books is really fascinating, so I can't help twisting it to my own desires. Plus, it's so much fun to have someone to hand out the really good put-downs, isn't it? 

Jemma Blackwell: I don't know if I could be rough on them if I WANTED to. They seem to have their own ideas. Remus is supposed to be all guilt-ridden, but the schmuck is actually having FUN with all of this! I just don't know how to handle these characters that run away on their own…


	6. The Dominant Partner

TITLE: Research and Development Part VI; The Dominant Partner

AUTHOR: 

PAIRING: Remus/Harry

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? After Grimmauld Place is destroyed, Harry and Remus find themselves on the run, unable to do magic, and having to hide their relationship from an unlikely roommate.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: The Stupendous ShadowPhoenix, The Effervescent Elizabeth, and a hint or two from the Adorable Adele Sparks.

NOTES: Features the long-awaited leash scene, you little perverts. I love it.

THANK YOUS: At the bottom of the page

Part VI: The Dominant Partner

Remus got to his feet and helped Harry up, as well. "Are you all right?" he asked the youth quietly. Harry only nodded, looking more vulnerable and confused than Remus had ever seen him, his eyes wide and blank, and missing their trademark glasses. "Did you manage to grab your wand?" The werewolf's own wand was tucked in the waistband of his pajamas. There was definitely something to be said for werewolf reflexes.

Harry nodded dully, brandishing it with a rather abstracted air. Suddenly, a loud 'pop' split the night beside them, and there stood a tall, masked Death Eater. It pointed its wand at Harry's head, and Harry's quick reflexes responded by flourishing his own, ready to hex and curse.

"_NO!_" a voice roared from nearby, and Harry was abruptly on the ground and rolling, tackled by a shadowy figure. Remus, gaping, tried to decide between the Death Eater before him and the unknown quantity attacking Harry. On the whole, anyone attacking Harry pretty much automatically became his first order of business.

He dove into the struggle, managing to kick the dark body away, snatching Harry from its grip. He heard Arthur Weasley shout a curse behind him, felling the Death Eater. As Remus aimed his wand at Harry's assailant, the man lunged forward once more, grabbing hold of Harry's wand, completely ignoring Remus.

"POTTER, YOU IMBECILE! If you don't give me your wand _this instant_ you will suffer such indescribable pain that even _I_ would feel some small measure of pity for you!" Severus Snape proceeded to wrench the wooden object from the boy's grip, scowling dreadfully at him. He turned to Lupin. "And _you_! Don't you pull your wand on me, you worthless, walking catastrophe! You were WARNED, damn you! You deserve to be skinned and mounted in a Death Eater's trophy room! WHAT DID YOU LET HIM EAT?"

Remus flinched, lowering his wand. "I—what? I—I didn't. I never," he stuttered, trying to sort the situation out in his head.

"It was something I _ate_?" Harry asked, obviously baffled. "I only ate Mrs. Weasley's pot roast. Oh, and those new candies the twins came up with."

The werewolf's mouth fell open as it clicked into place. "Dear _Merlin_! Oh, no! You ate that gag-gift candy from the twins! And so did I," he added as an afterthought. He looked at Harry. "Your dream. Don't you remember?"

"_It would be a good joke_…" Harry muttered, his face gone white. His terrified eyes searched his lover's face. "Was it poison? Did he poison me? _Did he poison us?_" he cried, his voice rising in fright. _Oh God, oh God, please don't let me have poisoned my own lover,_ he thought wildly, his stomach abruptly contracting in nausea.

"I would have thought only an utter fool would take candy from a Weasley, even if the Dark Lord were in no way involved," Severus remarked darkly, still glaring at them. His dry, cool tone calmed Harry somewhat; surely if two people were about to die horrible deaths right in front of him, Snape would be more upset, wouldn't he? Besides, he was a Potions Master, and knew all the antidotes. "No, Potter, you haven't been poisoned. The Dark Lord _has_ tried that route, repeatedly, but has found it to be, for some reason, a great difficulty. What few poisons which really _were_ poisons have never been subtle enough to make it through the many defenses the Headmaster has set up for you."

Snape sneered at Harry, looking as though he would only be too happy to watch the boy twitch and convulse as he succumbed to a deadly poison. He was about to continue, but Tonks' shout interrupted. "Bus is here! We have to go, _now!_"

Harry found himself swept onto the Knight Bus, which jumped from place to place at a dizzying pace, outrunning the Death Eaters and keeping on the move. Harry had no idea how it had been arranged, and he didn't much care at the moment. He just went and sat right next to Snape, glaring at the man. "What happened? Why didn't anyone tell me I wasn't supposed to eat anything?"

"Because the Headmaster has a ridiculous urge to coddle you mercilessly, and save your poor, innocent soul from dealing with such nasty things, I assume," Snape spat angrily. "And if he continues to do so, he will pamper you straight into an early grave."

"It was the potion you made, wasn't it?" the werewolf quietly asked.

"The potion the Dark Lord demanded," Severus corrected, looking irritated.

"Dear God, Severus," Remus berated, "and you _prepared_ it for him? Why couldn't you have just faked it, like you did with the others?"

"One does get tired of _just faking it_," Snape mocked. "The Pursuing Potion is, unfortunately, easily recognized, if not easily made. It had to _pass_, Lupin. I made what adjustments I could, given the specifications that had to be met. I was able to make it…more difficult for him, I believe. The potion _will_ work correctly, when it is first taken. But it dissipates, and after it encounters the blood stream, only magic will render the drinker visible to the searcher."

"Does that mean he can't use magic without risk of being traced?" Remus replied, his brow lowering.

"It means _neither _of you may use magic. It means _no one_ who has eaten that candy can use their magical abilities without drawing the Dark Lord to their side. Even being _near_ magic is dangerous." Snape closed his eyes, looking suddenly tired. "It was the only protection I could offer; it is a very powerful potion."

"Indeed it is," a new voice put in, and Harry looked up to see Dumbledore standing beside them, looking grave in his blue and pink sleeping gown. "And we are very fortunate that you were able to alter it in the way you did," he added, patting Severus lightly on the back. The man merely sniffed in return.

"Headmaster? Sir? What's going to happen to me? To us?" Harry asked, blinking a little. "How can I go back to school if I can't do magic? And what about Ron and the twins? The twins didn't do it on purpose—I know they didn't. They would never betray me."

Remus felt a worrisome twinge at that. The truth was the Weasleys could and might betray Harry. You never really knew. Remus had learned that the hard way. He made a vow to keep a closer eye on Harry's friends, and prevent them ever having a chance to harm him again. He looked towards the rear of the bus, where Hermione was crying, and Ron had his arms around her. They were obviously too absorbed to be worried much about Harry, although they did spare an anxious glance or two at him.

"Oh, I have no doubts as to Fred and George or their motives; they are excellent young men, really. They seem to have chosen their most recent supplier rather unwisely though, I'm afraid. This should teach them a valuable lesson about people who seem to offer a good deal for very little in return."

"Not to mention learning something about acquiring business contacts through Mundungus Fletcher," Snape interjected, his eyebrow arched.

"As for what will happen to you, you need not fear overmuch. Since it is dangerous for you to be near magic, we shall be keeping you away from it, at least for the time being. And there will be no reason you cannot attend Hogwarts at the usual time, as the potion should have passed through your body by the time the school year starts."

Harry's eyes gleamed. "It will?"

Dumbledore beamed at the boy, but it was Snape who answered, in his usual acerbic style. "Of course it will, you little ninny—a week from now, your body will have entirely forgotten the serum was ever introduced to your system. That is, of course, if you are still alive by then."

Harry ignored this. "Will I have to go back to the Dursleys', then?" he inquired rather hopelessly.

Dumbledore hesitated before answering. "Not just yet," he finally replied. "I'm afraid there are…complications with your Aunt and Uncle."

"Complications as in, 'they don't want you back,' which I don't doubt, or complications as in, 'something's happened to them'?" Harry queried shrewdly. "_Has_ something happened to them? Are…are they all right?"

At this, the Headmaster smiled a little. "They are fine, Harry. They have simply been relocated for the moment for their own protection. I've decided it is…prudent at this time to split you up. To split everyone up, actually," he explained apologetically, and Harry felt the bus rumble to a halt. "Come now, boy, this is your stop."

Harry made sure Remus was following before walking to the front of the bus and hopping lightly to the sidewalk. The night was still pitch as sin, but from the glow of the streetlamps the young wizard saw that they were in the middle of a Muggle city. He felt suddenly quite embarrassed that he was standing out there for all to see, dressed in his pajamas. He wasn't even wearing underwear, for Merlin's sake.

Then Remus joined him, and Harry felt immediately better. The werewolf had no compunction about his couture; he seemed perfectly at ease like this, and _he_ wasn't even wearing a shirt. Harry felt an inexplicable thrill that the masculine marks across the man's chest were displayed for one and all. And the way Remus moved, all sinew and control, his self-possession evident despite his state of undress…Harry shivered. The man was almost pornographic, and he wasn't even _doing_ anything.

Dumbledore joined them shortly, along with Professor Snape, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. "Harry," the Headmaster was saying, "You'll be going with Professor Snape. Each person who was subjected to the potion will have to be paired with someone still capable of performing magic. Remus will be staying with me." He turned to re-board the bus as though the subject was settled.

Harry shared a panicked look with the gray-haired man, before shaking his head wildly. "No! You can't separate us like that!"

"Cease behaving like a stubborn jackass and come along at _once_," Snape snapped, snatching at Harry's wrist and yanking. He turned and began hauling the boy along behind him, like he was a particularly recalcitrant wagon.

Harry gave Remus a pleading look, and the man stepped forward and grabbed hold of Harry's other wrist. "Stop, Severus," he ordered. He looked back at Dumbledore, giving him a rueful shrug. "Albus, I'm afraid I must insist on staying with Harry." He gave a gentle tug, pulling the youth back toward him.

"Remus, I'm afraid I don't—" the aged wizard began, when Snape interjected vehemently.

"Lupin, be an imbecile on your _own_ time!" He gave Harry's arm a jerk, nearly toppling the boy, and causing him to stumble into the man. "We are wasting precious moments out here!"

Lupin responded by wrenching the young wizard right back away from the Potions Master. "You're the one wasting time by arguing!"

"Remus, I think—" Harry started to say, before his professor interrupted by wresting him away from the werewolf.

"I hardly think you have any right to voice your opinion at this stage, _Lupin_," the man sneered. "So far your astounding feats of guardianship have led to nearly getting the boy killed not once, but _twice_! And however little I like being stuck with him, it's far less unpleasant than being stuck with _you_, so let _go_!" He pulled harder on Harry's arm, trying to get him loose from the werewolf's grip.

Remus snarled, showing teeth. "Sod off, Snape!" He clutched Harry more tightly. "As if anyone in their right mind would leave him alone with you! And _you_ let go, damn it! He's _mine_!"

"All right, now, that's enough," Dumbledore's stern voice came from the dark night, and the men released their grip on the boy.

"It really is, too!" Harry complained, rubbing at his sore arms. "The two of you can just stop trying to rend me limb from limb for a few moments, if you don't mind!" Remus bowed his head, looking abashed, but the Potions Master merely scowled. "Anyway, I'm not going anywhere without Remus, and that's the way it's gonna be, so you all can just get used to it." He crossed his arms stubbornly, and saw Snape out of the corner of his eye, shaking with suppressed anger.

"You know, it may not be a bad idea," Dumbledore told them thoughtfully. "You wouldn't be able to keep an eye on the boy all the time, Severus, with all of your other duties that need attending. And Remus has some experience of the Muggle world. Yes, I think it would be best to keep the three of you together."

"_What_?" Severus and Remus demanded in unison.

"What?" echoed Harry.

"Severus, I do believe the same plan may be adapted to fit three, would it not?" That damnable twinkle was once more evident in the old man's eyes. "Well, then. It's all settled. Now, don't forget yourselves, and use no magic whatever. Let Severus handle all of that. I'll keep in touch. Remus, do try not to despair; I may have an odd job or two for you in spite of the situation. All right, I'd better be getting on with it. If I assign Minerva to keep an eye on the twins…" he muttered, stepping back onto the bus.

Snape gave Harry his patented, award-winning look of pure loathing. "This wasn't my fault," Harry protested weakly. Giving the bus one last look, he saw Ron and Hermione waving apologetically at him. He managed a half-hearted wave in return, before the bus abruptly leapt out of sight.

Severus took a deep breath through his distinctive nose. "Let's not stand out here all night, looking like complete fools…fitting though the look may be, for the two of you. Come along!" he bit out, sounding very sour. He whirled on his heel and began marching away.

Harry trotted to keep up, and Remus swiftly plucked him off the ground, letting his longer strides eat up the pavement. He spared Harry a contrite smile. "I'm so sorry, Green Eyes," he murmured. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"From what you were _saying_¸ it was something like, 'Mine! Mine! _Back off, bitch! _If you touch him I'll bite you! Mine, mine, mine!'" He giggled a little, and Snape shot them a suspicious look over his shoulder, although he was far enough ahead not to overhear the conversation.

"You're right," Remus sighed, chagrinned. "Oh, dear. I'm really going to have to work harder at controlling myself. I'm sincerely sorry, Harry. I'll try very hard not to let it happen again." He said this with such a hangdog look that Harry couldn't help laughing once more.

"I wouldn't worry too much. The only part I really objected to was playing the rope substitute in your little game of tug-of-Potter-war. The hot-blooded possessiveness and the surprising, totally baseless jealousy were really kind of cute."

Remus looked deeply offended by this, giving a _harrumph_ of protest. "I was not _jealous_," he insisted. "I was simply concerned about your welfare." Harry snorted in response, but didn't disagree.

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The tiny hotel room was dingy and decrepit. There were twin beds, a television, a small kitchenette, and a feeling of hopeful desperation, like a middle-aged divorcee with a slew of bad memories visiting a singles bar. The wallpaper was a rather outdated succession of purple and yellow flowers, and Harry noticed several spots on the walls where the damp had seeped through. "Boy, what a sodding dump," he noted with indifference.

"Mind your mouth, Potter," Snape replied. "Far be it for you to show some gratitude, considering how difficult this all was to arrange on such short notice. Of course, if the great Harry Potter's standards are not being met—"

"I didn't say that," Harry disagreed. "It's okay." The room was cheerless, but it held Remus Lupin, and that was all he really cared about.

"There are only two beds," Remus said slowly, glancing cautiously at Snape.

"You will _not_ be sharing _mine_," the Potions Master replied with disgust. "Can't you just curl up on the rug or something?"

"I don't mind; he can share with me," Harry offered instantly, looking inappropriately hopeful, and causing a wry smile to pull at the corners of the werewolf's mouth.

Snape frowned, looking at the small beds. "I'll find something I can transfigure into a cot tomorrow," he said slowly.

Remus shrugged carelessly. "If Harry doesn't hog the covers, then I'm sure _I_ don't care. I've slept in far worse places, at any rate." It was such a pity to be forced to sleep in such close proximity to his mate and be unable to claim him if the desire arose. Which it inevitably would, and likely five times a night, at that.

Severus glanced at the man, looking as though he felt vaguely uncomfortable but couldn't put a name to it. "…At any rate," he muttered at length, "I'm sure I'll be gone often enough, and you can have mine when I'm not here."

Remus nodded, attempting to appear appreciative of the offer. The only time he'd get a bed to himself would be the nights he wouldn't need one. He sighed. Looking down at Harry, he said, "Are you tired?"

Harry shrugged one shoulder casually. "After all that excitement? Not likely. But it probably won't be long before I'm ready to kip. It'll catch up with me, no doubt."

The werewolf patted him tentatively on the back. "We're going to have to get you new glasses, aren't we?"

"The hell with the glasses; nearly all my clothes were at Grimmauld Place. _And_ yours. We're each going to have to get a whole new wardrobe, not to mention anything else we left there. I guess I'm glad Hedwig was still at the Dursleys'. I'm grateful I never got around to sending for her or the rest of my stuff." Remus was looking…almost cross, although he didn't say anything. Harry could sense he'd touched a sore topic, and hurried to change it. "Oh, let's see what's on the telly, shall we? I never get to pick what to watch." He flicked on the screen, and he and Remus tried to make themselves comfortable on the bed, Snape flicking his wand at various objects and transfiguring them into useful items before entering the bathroom and, after an initial gasp of horror, using _scourgify_ on every accessible surface.

The only show that came in clearly was a re-run of Cagney and Lacey, and it bored Harry about to tears. He ended up falling asleep in the crook of Remus's arm, while Snape perched on the edge of the bed, scowling at the flickering screen with absorbed concentration. The man only spoke once all night; to tell Harry, who was in the process of trying to get more comfortable, "Shut that damnable snoring mongrel up! I want to know why they don't think the purse-snatcher was involved in the rest of it."

Harry hid a grin as he poked Remus in the ribs, causing the man to grunt and turn onto his side. The werewolf slept more quietly after that, and Harry fell back to sleep with an abiding sense of coziness. Whatever else the next week held, he was sure it was going to be greatly entertaining.

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The next morning, Harry woke to Remus bustling about in the kitchenette, making a couple of weak cups of tea. As soon as he saw Harry was awake, he came over and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the boy's lips. "Good morning, Sunshine," he said in a soft voice. "Would you like a cup of truly awful tea?"

Harry gave him a grin, swinging his legs off the bed. "Oh, why not? You're awfully affectionate this morning, considering that 'Hurricane Snape' would do terrible things if he caught us like that. Do we have anything to eat?"

Remus shook his head sorrowfully. "Not yet, Cupcake. Snape's out taking care of all that right now. Which is why I'm being so affectionate," he added with a small smile. "Trying to meet my quota before Tall, Dark, and Nosy returns to ruin it." He pressed another kiss to Harry's temple, and handed him a chipped cup. "If you drink enough, you won't feel so hungry. Old trick."

Harry frowned into his cup, blowing the steam away. "Yeah, I know that one," he said quietly. He glanced up and their eyes met before both looked away in mutual shamed embarrassment. "So. I wonder if there's anything better to watch this morning. It's not like we can do much of anything, when neither of us even has any clothes. I never thought I'd miss my underwear quite so keenly. Of course, we could always…"

Before Harry could even finish his sentence, a grouchy Severus stomped in, holding a couple of parcels under his arms. He glowered when he set eyes on the student. "Ah, Mister Potter. Now that you've finally abandoned your thoroughly futile beauty sleep, perhaps we can get some of the day's more repulsive chores done with. Here," he thrust a package at Harry. "Put those on."

Harry unwrapped the clothing, only to find it would never fit him. "Snape, these clothes are for someone much taller and thinner than I am."

"Ah, yes. Somehow I'd completely forgotten how extremely obtuse you really are. Do you remember that insignificant thing called _magic,_ Potter? Surely if Quidditch played any part in transfiguration, you wouldn't be so dismally slow to catch on."

"Stop it, Severus," Remus admonished. "I know how much enjoyment you must be getting out of the fact that you're the only one of us capable of doing magic just now, but you're not going to hold your little power trips over Harry's head. Just make the damn clothes fit him."

With a grimace, Snape brandished his wand, and Harry soon found himself in a pair of gray slacks and an itchy sweater. A _very_ itchy sweater, which Harry wanted out of almost more than anything, but he realized this would not be a tactful thing to say. "Thank you," he grated, trying to subtly reach up between his shoulder blades. Snape threw another parcel to Remus, and changed the size of the outfit accordingly.

Eyeing the faded corduroys and the grubby t-shirt, Severus mocked, "I shouldn't doubt these are the finest garments you've ever worn."

Remus merely gave Snape a resentful look, but Harry bristled. "Don't you dare do that again," he shot. "You spent _months_ ridiculing Sirius, and I'm not going to let you pull that on Remus, too. No more goading, do you understand? He's always been perfectly respectful to you around me, even when you're acting like a total arse. I'm sick of it. _Play nice, Snape._"

"Professor Snape," Remus automatically corrected. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Self-control is practically my middle name. You need to learn to not let these sorts of things bother you. There are much more important concerns, all right?"

Harry gave Snape a disgruntled look—one that was met by the man's lip curled in an expression of disdain—and went over to Remus. "Yeah, all right, I guess. What are our concerns right now? Besides breakfast, I mean."

"Your concerns are clothing, supplies, and staying the hell out of everyone's way until this has passed. In other words, for once in your life, you are going to _stay the hell out of trouble_," Snape informed him. "Lupin, on the other hand, will be fulfilling a duty set by the Headmaster, as well." He handed Remus a folded slip of paper. "This is from Fletcher. You will be meeting him tomorrow evening. I have an appointment I cannot miss, so you will have to take the boy. I have some of Mister Potter's funds, which Albus has seen fit to have released in order for the two of you to clothe yourselves for the duration. Since yours were lost in 'the line of fire' or some such obviously fabricated nonsense, he's also seen fit to give you a small reimbursement. It must be such an indignity, knowing you're an unequivocal charity case."

Harry gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists, but Remus calmly put a hand on his shoulder. "It's nothing, Green Eyes. Bullies always derive satisfaction in provoking intelligent people into doing stupid things."

"Like James so often did? Or were you accusing me of provoking the mutt to his eventual death?" The Potions Master gave them a smug look when they both turned faces full of disgust and fury toward him. "Oh, but no provoking mild-mannered Lupin, I see. Always the calm one, unless you're ripping peoples' throats out with your teeth. At any rate, here are the funds," he thrust a small purse at Remus, who caught it awkwardly. "I will be back later this afternoon, and I will expect to meet the two of you here. You will _not_ cause any trouble while I am gone, is that perfectly clear? You will make your purchases, return to this room, and work on your best imitations of _mimes_. If I, for any reason, have to save your sorry excuses for lives again, you will wish devoutly that I had let you _die_."

"Fine," Remus replied shortly through gritted teeth. Snape merely wrinkled his nose and flung himself back out the door, slamming it behind him. The werewolf shook inside with anger, but outwardly was as composed as ever. He sighed, about to suggest they get going, and turned to see Harry, already in a state of undressing himself.

"I _hate_ this sweater," the youth said sheepishly. "Could you scratch my back?"

"You do realize that my laying hands on your bare skin will almost certainly lead to carnal activities which have nothing whatever to do with clothes shopping?" He traced Harry's slender throat with his eyes, sighing inwardly.

"Oh, but Remus," Harry grinned wickedly. "I'm _counting_ on it."

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Afterward, Remus read Mundungus' note several times, while Harry whined about wanting food. "In a second, kiddo," he said absentmindedly, missing Harry's dark scowl in response. "The Ride 'Em, Cowboy? But…but…why the _hell_ would Fletcher want to meet in a place like that? And what is Snape thinking? I can't take _you_ to a place like that."

"Why not?" Harry demanded, brow lowered. "I can take care of myself."

"Yes…but…" Remus trailed off, not certain how to express himself.

"But what?" Harry's foot was tapping in a rather alarming way.

"Harry. You're just…too young for something like this, and _far_ too delicate." He sighed even as the words left his mouth, knowing he'd put it exactly the wrong way.

"_What_?" Harry shouted. "I'm _delicate_? You think I'm too young and I'm _delicate?_ I've already lived through at least four separate attacks by Voldemort, so just how damn delicate could I possibly be? You think that just because I'm not some middle-aged cynic who couldn't be hurt by anything less than a silver bullet, that I'm somehow some kind of _weakling_? Is that what you really think? Huh?" Harry was right up in Remus's face, hands balled into fists once more, chest heaving. His teeth were clenched but his eyes were bright, and the werewolf worried the youth might fall apart completely. They'd been through a lot recently, after all.

Instead of denying anything, Remus tilted his head and kissed Harry long and gently, feeling the tension ease from his lover's slender frame. "Poor choice of words," he whispered when they broke away. "I meant that I always hated the place, and that you would be a very tempting plaything to most of the patrons. It's a rough sort of place, and you…one shouldn't go in, looking as innocent as you do now."

"Well…" Harry considered this. "So then we make me look less innocent, that's all." He gave Remus a rather cunning smile.

Remus shook his head, frowning. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not taking you into a leather bar, and certainly not an S&M dive like the Ride 'Em, Cowboy. You can be angry and yell at me all you want, and you can even throw things and have a big fit if you like. The fact remains; there is no way on God's green earth you're coming with me tonight."

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As the door to the club swung inward, Remus wished profoundly that he'd left Harry behind. In the first place, he was more than a little worried about keeping the other customer's hands off the boy, and in the second, it had occurred to him that he was very likely going to end up being arrested. In the end, it didn't matter _what_ happened; this was almost unquestionably going down in history as the worst night of his life.

Shopping had been horrific. Harry had enjoyed himself, and it was true that the enjoyment was contagious, at least as far as watching Harry try on new outfits went. The trouble started when Harry insisted on picking out _his_ clothes, as well. At first, he had acquiesced quite easily, reckoning the boy would soon tire and they could move on to other things. It wasn't that Remus particularly _disliked _clothes shopping, although it held no great thrill for him; it was just that he had very little money to his name, and was, by nature, very frugal. Harry was not.

Harry was expansive, particularly when it came to buying Remus things he didn't especially want or need. He tried to voice his objections several times, but the damn boy simply rode right over them, and proceeded to behave as though Remus were a Ken doll that needed to look spiffy for Barbie. And numerous pairs of jeans, slacks, button-downs, sweaters, jackets, ties, and cries of 'Oh, look, Remus! Superman underwear! Isn't that _great_? We just have to get some!' later, he was following the youth out the front doors of the shopping complex with several bags, a glazed look, and a feeling of acute distress.

"Harry…" he'd managed weakly. "We can't…all this…Harry. We have to take some of this back. This is _ridiculous_. I can't… These are more clothes than I usually go through in six years. We don't _need_ all of this. Do you have any idea how unhappy I am, right now?"

"Oh, hush," was Harry's distinctly airy response. "If I'm going to be stuck looking at you for the rest of my life, you're bloody well going to have to be something nice to look at." He displayed a particularly Slytherin smile and said, "Now. How do we make me look less respectable?"

Remus groaned. "This is a bad idea. Anyway, it may have less to do with whether or not you look respectable, and more to do with whether I look intimidating enough to chase anyone else away. And dispelling any doubt that you're with me…" he was saying, but Harry spoke over him.

"Oh, look! A porn shop. Let's try in here, shall we? Maybe we'll find something useful."

"_What_?"

And so it came to be that the two of them skulked—well, Remus skulked, Harry had an annoying bounce in his step—into the Ride 'Em, Cowboy. Which was, Remus noted with a mixture of relief and despair, far less rough than he remembered, although it was still fairly sleazy. Most of the clients _were_ dressed in leather, chains, and unlikely things such as cowboy hats, which Remus supposed helped them to blend in a little. Still, he wholeheartedly regretted having bought the collar and leash.

Harry seemed completely oblivious to the werewolf's discomfort, and swam through the crowd until the leash brought him up short. "Ouch. Remus, keep up, would you? How are we ever going to find Mundungus in this horde of people?"

"Sorry," Remus muttered, trying stay near the boy's side. "Look, why don't you hold onto the leash? I feel like a right idiot, and—"

"_No_, Remus! That defeats the whole purpose! What would be the _point_ of a leash otherwise?" He turned in a circle, eyes squinting through the new lenses.

"Right," Remus' shoulders slumped. "At least it makes it harder to lose you in the crowd." The problem wasn't so much that the accessory wasn't appropriate; the throng was full of people with dog collars and piercings and handcuffs hanging casually from belt hooks. The problem, in Remus's eyes, was that Harry was so clearly a child, and looked severely underage at a place like this, and the leash and collar connected to a man so much older could only make Remus a complete pervert—especially in the eyes of the law. Remus had had run-ins with the Muggle law before, and was not overly anxious to experience one again.

He turned and scanned the crowd, pausing to really focus on the faces. Fletcher was good at disguises; maybe Remus would have to wait until _he _found _them_. He couldn't wait to see the look on the man's face when he set eyes on Harry. And, oh boy, Dumbledore's face when the news was relayed to him. Snape was probably right; he should never be left alone with the boy again.

Speaking of the boy, Remus looked back to him, and saw the youth chatting animatedly with a large man sporting at least twenty tattoos and an impressive mustache. "Harry," he called aggrievedly. No response. "_Harry._" He gave the leash a gentle tug, and green eyes flared with irritation, giving him a dirty look before turning back to the disgustingly macho biker, or whatever he was. Remus grumbled under his breath for a moment. If Harry was going to be disobedient, Remus would simply have to remind him who was in charge. "Harry! Come here, _now_!" He accompanied the words with a sharp yank on the leash, and the boy was at his side in an instant.

"Jeez, Remus; you don't have to crack the whip or anything!" He rubbed at his neck as if it bothered him, but the werewolf could clearly see the smile playing at the corner of the youth's mouth and the excited pink crawling up his face. He determined to forget about it, at least for now.

"You were _ignoring_ me," he said pointedly, staring the boy down. He fought down a flash of arousal at the way those green eyes lowered submissively, that faint smile never fading.

"I was only being friendly," Harry said, a challenge as much as a disputation. He glanced slyly up at the man.

The werewolf's eyes narrowed, and he leaned over until his lips were only an inch away from the boy's ear. "Don't you _dare_ argue with me. I've had enough of your antics today. First the shopping, where you fully disregard my feelings on the subject, and now you've the gall to—to _flirt_ with the dregs of society! You listen closely," Remus hooked one finger at the front of Harry's collar, dragging him closer, and pointed another at his nose. "_I. Am. The. Boss. __I'm_ the one in charge. I'm the master; do you understand me? We do things my way or we don't do them at all. And if you won't do as I say, the next time I have to go somewhere, I'll tie you to the bed and leave you behind." Pulling on the collar until the boy was forced to stand on his toes, Remus looked fiercely into Harry's eyes until the youth, flushing brightly, looked down once more. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Remus," he replied in a rather breathy voice.

"Remus?" someone at his elbow said, and the werewolf turned his head. A squinting Mundungus was examining him with great curiosity. "It _is_ you. You look quite flash somehow. Must be that leather jacket. Anyway, I thought I—I. Dear God! _Harry?_"

They found a small table to sit at, and Remus was only too happy to accept Mundungus's offer of a stiff drink. Actually, when the man said, "So, who wants a good, stiff drink?" Harry had piped up just as quickly with a bright, "I do!" earning himself a pointed snarl from the werewolf.

Remus swirled the gin around in the glass a few times before taking another swig. "Dear God, Fletcher; why did you have to choose _this _place to meet at?" Dimly, he was aware of sounding petulant, but decided he didn't care. After a while he looked up, sure he was being scrutinized.

He wasn't. Fletcher was still staring at the Boy Who Liked Discipline a Little Too Much. "I…thought this was your kind of joint," Mundungus told him slowly. "Thought it'd be a treat for you to get out again…maybe meet someone, now that…" He went to take a sip of his Bloody Mary and missed his mouth, dribbling tomato juice down his chin. "Uck." He dabbed at himself with a napkin, still looking confusedly at the boy, taking in the feathered hair, flushed cheeks, net shirt and, of course, the somehow very conspicuous collar and leash. "I forgot you'd have the kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Harry retorted instantaneously, looking furious. "And I've got as much right to be here as anyone."

"Harry…" Remus rebuked with a low growl. One look at the werewolf's face threw the boy into a sulky silence. "Yes. Yes, I had to take Harry with me. I couldn't leave him behind; it wouldn't be safe. But I was worried about bringing him here, as well. I mean; you know what the place used to be like. Some people have difficulty taking no for an answer, and Harry is so young and…slight, if you would, and I was just sure someone would try to grab him."

"Ah," Mundungus tapped the side of his nose. "I can see what you were thinkin', now. Makes sense, makes sense. Didn't remember the boy was with you, or I'd have not suggested such a place. It does make it more dangerous, him sporting that pretty face and all. Yep, I'd have been worried, too. There's a good deal of unscrupulous people, would take advantage of a boy with a face such as Harry's."

"Yes," Remus agreed swiftly, relieved that the man had taken his point. "He's perfectly lovely, but walking into a hell hole like this with the face of an angel could only mean trouble. I was just sure someone would have their hands on him by the time the night was out. We…tried to make him look a little less of a complete ingénue, but I'm not certain it worked."

The other wizard squinted at the boy, who was now working to keep the flush from his face. _Remus thinks I'm 'lovely?' And Mundungus said I have a pretty face._ He bit his lip and tried not to preen, his earlier irritation with Remus almost forgotten. "Nah," Mundungus replied after inspecting the boy. "I reckon the leash and collar didn't help much. He looks even _more_ inexperienced with that stuff on. Ah, well. It was a good thought, all the same. Helps to keep him from wandering off. In my mind, _all_ teenagers oughta be leashed like that. Anyways, there's not much you can do about this one's looks. He'll always be a bit of a Bambi. It's the big eyes does it." He took another large gulp of his drink, his eyes flickering around the crowd. "Anyway," Fletcher added casually, "I've got something we need you to look into."

Remus nodded. Thank Merlin they were finally getting to the point. He couldn't wait to get out of this place, back to the hotel, alone with his mate…who was wearing a leash. He licked his lips and shifted in his seat, his new pants abruptly feeling too tight. Pulling himself together, he asked, "What is it?"

Mundungus pulled a handkerchief out of this pocket. Something was wrapped inside it, but he made no effort to unfold it. "Here. Take this. You can't do it here, Dumbledore said, 'cause there are too many people about. Just have Snape take the…the you know what off, and have a close look. Then send him to tell us what you think."

"Couldn't you have given it to Snape in the first place? And why is it so important?" he frowned at the package before slipping it into his jacket. Obviously it was something that shouldn't be opened until later, but he'd have liked to know why.

Mundungus gave a slight lift of his shoulders. "I don't know nothing about nothing. Just tell us what it reminds you of, got it? Anyway, I've got to go." He got up and nodded goodbye.

Remus watched at him uncertainly, and opened his mouth to question the man further when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Remus? Oh, my God, it _is_ you!"

He turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered blond, whose perfect teeth flashed in the erratic lighting of the bar. _What the…? Wait. I know that face!_ "Alexander!" he exclaimed, jaw dropping. "Good grief. I haven't seen you in…what, now? More than ten years? You're looking…well." He really was, too. He'd filled out since Remus had last seen him, and was looking more sophisticated and self-confident than ever.

Harry glared up at the interloper, ready to spit in disgust at his trendy clothes and expensive haircut. _What a tosser._ He crossed his arms tightly, seething quietly.

The man laughed. "Yes, it's certainly been a while, hasn't it? And who is this?" He gestured to Harry, his grin slightly more amused.

"Oh. Erm. This is Harry. Harry, this is Alexander Decklin. Harry's a…I'm Harry's…uh. Harry's my…" Remus trailed off, looking guilty.

"Oh, I can see perfectly well what Harry is to you. Really, Remus, a leash? I admit he's at the age where they fool around quite a bit, but you have to physically _restrain _him?" He laughed again. "Nice to meet you, Harry." He offered the youth his hand, but Harry turned his head.

"_Harry_. Mind your manners," Remus ordered, sounding angry.

"Don't worry about it." Alexander winked at the werewolf, and sat down across from him. "Remus and I got into quite a bit of trouble, back in the day. We had just as much of an attitude."

"What are you _doing _here?" the werewolf was watching the man, mesmerized. "I thought you'd…outgrown the place years ago."

"I did, in truth," Alexander responded. "But I still drop by on occasion. After all, it's so near my flat. My goodness, you do know how to pick them, don't you?" He reached out a slender hand and cupped Harry's chin, turning the boy's face from side to side.

"Don't. Touch me." Harry grated, jerking away. Remus opened his mouth to reprimand his mate once more, but Alexander laughed.

"Ah, yes. You did always have a thing for the ones which were easy on the eyes and hard on everything else, didn't you?" He grinned at Harry again. "Always did like the wild ones, our Remus."

Harry scowled at him. "He isn't _our_ anything, you swish bastard. He's _mine_. And what would you know about it, anyway!"

Without thinking, Remus jerked on the leash and nearly yanked Harry out of his chair. Pulling roughly, he forced the boy's head close to his own. "I'm growing tired of your immature behaviour," he warned in a low voice. "You would not like me to speak to your friends so rudely. You have exactly ten seconds to prove to me that you're not a little monster who's too young to be treated with anything approaching respect, let alone carrying on a sexual relationship with someone more than twenty years his senior. Got it?" Harry nodded wordlessly.

Remus slowly played out the leash, letting Harry crawl back into his own seat. "Sorry," the boy muttered.

"Not a problem," Alexander responded cheerfully. "A little grouchiness never hurt anyone. If you'd been Sirius, you would be punching random strangers by now."

Harry's head flew up, and he looked at the man with wide eyes. "You knew Sirius?"

Once more, the man's musical laugh carried through the bar. "Absolutely. He was a very dear friend of mine—more so than Remus, in fact, since Remus very nearly always had to be bullied into doing anything fun. Like that time with the lights; d'you remember that one, Remus?"

"How could I forget?" the werewolf replied wryly.

"It was Christmas time, and we'd stolen every set of Christmas lights we could find, took them down to Broveborough Hill High School's football field, and used them across the field to spell out—"

"And then we got arrested," Lupin interrupted. "You remember that part, don't you?" He would certainly never forget. It had all seemed such a lark in the beginning; Sirius already bored with hanging around their new flat, going to hang about a Muggle bar, meeting up with Alexander and Thomson and deciding, as Sirius so oft did, that what the world needed was a little more mischief.

"Well…yes, of course," said Alexander, who at least had the decency to look a little abashed. "I spent two hours thinking that I'd soon be switching places with my father, who would surely be arrested for murdering me. I still don't understand quite how you and Sirius got us out, though. I mean, first that trick bar, and even though Sirius _could_ turn on the charm, we never really—"

"That was back when you were with Thomson, wasn't it? Whatever happened to Thomson?" Remus cast desperately about for another topic of conversation. God, that had been a _terrible _Christmas. Sirius had forced him to pull one of the bars loose—something he hated doing, but being a werewolf, was capable of. Then Sirius went and obliviated the policewoman at the front desk and stole all their paperwork, while Remus and the others made their escape.

"Thomson?" Alexander was repeating, with a strange look on his face. "He's been…gone, a couple years now. Cancer."

"Oh!" Remus said, his eyes going wide. "I. Er. I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."

Alexander shrugged those broad shoulders. "Well. We didn't keep in touch, did we? So you couldn't have known. Are you still friends with Sirius?" Remus noticed he was looking away, and the whole situation had suddenly become awkward.

"He's…he's gone, too. Um. Heart attack. Earlier this year, actually." He was very careful not to look at Harry as he spoke. It was times like these that were the hardest; when something quite unexpectedly pulled a particularly powerful memory to the forefront of his mind, and he ached with loss all over again. He shut his eyes and kept them that way for a long while.

"Oh. I'm…sorry, as well." Alexander was looking pale now, and Harry felt a twinge of …something, for the man. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? He was always so full of life. Well, actually, that sounds rather trite, and anyways Thomson always seemed so strong—such a big, strong guy—and you should have seen him wasting away on that hospital bed." He let out a great _whoosh_ of air and stood. "Well, it was nice to see you again, Remus, but I really ought to be getting back. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I've got a meeting with the boss tomorrow. Better be at my best, if I hope to make partner. Harry, it was good to meet you. And you needn't be jealous of me; I never had any designs on your boyfriend. Just…take good care of him, all right?" Remus knew he was offering to shake Harry's hand—Alex _always_ offered to shake peoples' hands—but he didn't look to see whether Harry accepted it or not. He kept his eyes shut, and felt the man give his shoulder a brief squeeze as he left.

"Remus? Are you all right?" he heard Harry saying, and nodded.

"Yes. It was just…a bit of a surprise, that's all." He was suddenly so weary, so drained. God, what the hell was he doing with a sixteen-year-old child as his lover? The whole situation was absurd. "Are you ready to go yet?" He blinked a couple of times to focus on the boy before him.

Harry was looking at him oddly; his was head tilted to the side, and he was chewing his lip, his dazzling eyes a tempest of emotion. "Sure, Remus," he replied at length. "Sure. Let's go."

They walked slowly down the street, passing under the streetlamps that glowed dimly in the evening fog. "Do you want to take the leash off?" Remus inquired after they'd gone a ways._ Just a man and his pet, out for walkies._

"No. Not really." Harry gave him a shy smile, and the man felt his heartbeat speed up again"It's…it's kind of getting cold out, though. Wish I'd remembered a jacket."

"Here, take mine," the werewolf offered, and found himself riding a swell of fondness when the youth's face lit up with another brilliant smile. He struggled out of the heavy leather coat, and helped Harry into it, all the while unable to take his eyes from that radiant grin. Oh, yes. To be sixteen again, when wearing your lover's coat meant something. He slid an arm around Harry, feeling the boy snuggle into the warm nook and rest his head on the werewolf's shoulder. Remus noted that the silent, empty ache had receded just a little, and reflected that it was a good thing.

When they walked into the hotel room, Remus noted that a light had been left on, and a small note sat on top of the television. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

_My dear idiots,_

_I've been summoned earlier than expected. Don't wait up for me. One of you may use my bed, so see that you do. You are not dogs, despite the lycanthropy, and it is nauseating in the extreme to see the two of you reposing in a heap of arms and legs. Not to mention, Lupin, that there is every chance you could roll over in the night and sever the boy's spine. I did not touch any of your nasty Muggle food…especially the kind inside the cans. I cannot fathom how any meal could possibly be stored this way…nor can I decipher how to extract it from the tin. At any rate, I shall return tomorrow, most likely. Be cautious, and for Merlin's sake, remember to take no candy from strangers._

_S.S._

_P.S. Don't touch my toothbrush. I'll know if you have. I mean it._

Remus snorted. Severus didn't even _need_ a toothbrush. Well, he could certainly use one, actually, but he was _supposed_ to be able to do that with magic. Shaking his head a little, he turned to see Harry standing in front of the bed, buck-naked save for the collar…and leash, which led right into his own hand.

"Harry…" he began in a scratchy voice. He cleared his throat. "T—take that silly thing off. You shouldn't….you. You ought to learn to have more control than this…Snape could walk in at any moment."

"I don't want to take it off," Harry replied mutinously, flipping his bangs out of his face. "And Snape's off with the Death Eaters, so I'd bet he won't be back any time soon. _And_, you promised me that if I worked on my Occlumency, I'd get what I wanted. You still haven't given it to me. I want this, Remus, and I want it now."

"You're thoroughly spoiled," the werewolf replied weakly, following the leather strap from his hand back to the youth, who was now sporting a sultry smile and a conspicuous erection. He looked back at the note in his hand. _He shouldn't be back until tomorrow…and the night is young…and so's your lover…and he's wearing a leash._

"Oh," was all Remus managed, and it came out more of a groan than a word. Then Harry was before him, running his hands over Remus's face, licking his throat, nipping at his lower lip.

"I love it when you have just a little stubble," the boy whispered, rubbing his neck against the werewolf's face. Harry felt Remus sigh, the warm breath brushing his collarbone, and he shivered. "Please, Remus."

"What do you want?" Remus bit Harry's ear gently, running the tips of his fingers up and down the youth's spine. "What do you want me to do?" As always, he could feel the flood of desire rushing through his veins, and kept a firm hold of himself. He hadn't managed to frighten the boy yet, but he was more than a little aware of how inexperienced Harry really was, and he would continue to be extremely careful with him.

"Everything," Harry was panting now, nails digging into the man's shoulder. "I want you kiss me and touch me, and I want you to stop asking me what I want all the time, like you're afraid of hurting me or doing something I don't want to do. I want you to do everything you want to do, and not be afraid of being rough." He slipped the tip of his tongue into Remus's ear briefly, and smiled a little when he felt strong hands gripping his hips tightly. "I want you to _take_ me. Oh…and I don't want you to let

go of the leash."

"Oh…" Remus drew a shaky breath, feeling his knees going weak. "Holy mother of God, Harry. You just. Do you even know? Get the lube, and hurry up about it." In the meanwhile, his fingers fumbled with the buttons on his new shirt. Incoherent, uncoordinated, heart thundering in his ears…if he could bottle the effect Harry had on him and sell it, he'd shortly be the richest man alive.

"Do you want me to undress you?" Harry's voice, still managing to retain a hint of self-consciousness, floated through the haze round the werewolf's head.

"Yes, please," he finally said when his clumsy fingers removed a button altogether. Laughing softly, Harry's nimble hands worked their way down his shirt as Remus looked on, mesmerized. He felt his breath hitch when Harry ran a heedless tongue over his teeth. "You're absolutely breathtaking, do you know that?"

The youth slowly pushed the shirt of Remus's shoulders, then glanced down at the man's chest. He leaned forward and slithered his tongue over one of Remus's nipples, then paused.

Remus watched Harry pull back a little, eyes wide and uncertain behind his new glasses. The youth licked his already pink lips. "Did you…do you want me to do that? Did you like it? I could stop…"

Remus groaned softly. Did he like it? Did he want Harry to _stop_? _Here, have a large helping of mind-blowing pleasure. Um. Do you like it?_ "Yessss," he hissed. "Harry, this night was supposed to be about _you_. We're supposed to be concentrating on doing what _you_ want, anything you want." He pulled steadily up on the leash until those eyes, half-lidded with lust, were staring into his own. "You needn't be so concerned about me. There isn't a damn thing you could do that I wouldn't like, anyhow. So Harry, let's do what _you_ want." He rubbed the very tip of his nose against Harry's.

Wild green eyes slowly opened to stare deeply into his own. "But, Remus…don't you get it? Making you happy _is_ what I want…well, that and the leash." He blinked innocently up at his mate, tilting his head to the side once more.

Remus felt a roaring, rushing surge of…_something_…come tearing through him. He found it abruptly difficult to breathe correctly, to think. He crushed his lips to Harry's, pushing him roughly down onto the bed, relishing the low moan the boy made as his mouth was none-too-gently plundered by the werewolf.

Breaking the kiss, he thrilled at the frenzied squeaks the boy was making. He leaned back a little further, and Harry attempted to follow, sitting up to capture the man's lips again. Remus allowed this for a moment, before choking up on the leash and pressing it against the bed, so that Harry had no choice but to follow. The youth didn't seem the slightest bit upset about this; his eyes were raging with want, and his body writhed with passion, seeking Remus's hand and pushing into it with fervent abandon. Remus stared avidly, taking in every detail of Harry's flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his body, the puffs of breath, and the way his jaw would clench as each eager whimper escaped his mouth.

"That's enough," Remus barked suddenly, and the boy fell still, chest still heaving, a cross between a snarl and a smile on his face. His fists were twisted in the blankets, and Remus let him have a few moments to calm down. "Ready?" he asked, when the boy seemed to have a bit more control. Harry nodded and began to say something, but Remus covered his mouth. "No. You need to remember to be quiet, so no talking. Understood?" Harry nodded enthusiastically, his eyes as large as dinner plates. The werewolf was glad he remembered the delightful way the boy's appetite was whetted by a few simple commands. It took so little to keep Harry stimulated, and if Remus wished to derive any pleasure from the experience, then Harry would have to enjoy himself as well.

He gripped the youth's hip with one hand and spun him over onto his stomach. "Spread your legs," he commanded, and Harry did immediately. "Get up on your hands and knees," he finally suggested, reaching for the lube. They were going to have to be careful to hide the tube from Severus; there was really only one thing it could be used for, and that was obvious. Massaging Harry's arse with one hand, Remus remembered to keep hold of the leash with the other, and Harry gasped. "Oh, you like that, do you?" Remus could hear the wolf, the growl in his voice, and couldn't even bring himself to be appalled. The wolf would not hurt its mate. He took comfort in that, and slowly slipped a finger inside the youth's body. Harry let out a loud, inarticulate moan, and Remus froze.

He hadn't been joking when he'd said Harry needed to be quiet. The walls were paper-thin in this place, and the last thing he needed were meddlesome neighbors, especially if they happened to mention to the hotel's owner or, God forbid, to Snape, that the sound of two males rutting had kept them awake at night. "Harry…keep it down," he warned.

"S—sorry," Harry's sibilant reply came. Remus moved his finger carefully, and Harry moaned once again. "Can't _help_ it!" The noises Harry was making only increased in volume, and Remus was forced to stop. "Oh, Remus, please don't stop," the boy pleaded miserably. "I'll try harder, I promise."

"Shhh…" Remus admonished him, twisting a handkerchief and pulling it between Harry's teeth. "This'll muffle things a bit, hopefully. But for crying out loud, _keep it down_! I mean it." He tried to think of a way to phrase it that would walk the line between keeping Harry aroused and still dampening his vocalizations. He finally settled on, "You are _not_ to make any noise."

With an overly raucous shout of his own, Remus shoved Harry flat on the bed and let the clenching, squirming muscles push him over the edge. Feeling himself erupt deep within his lover, Remus shuddered as he felt Harry's face, making certain the boy could still breathe. He yanked the handkerchief off as soon as it was over. "God, I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered. "We just have to be careful in places like this and—here, let me take off this leash."

Harry rolled over, his eyes glazed with bliss. "No, don't," he mumbled. "Don't be sorry. Felt so _good_. Merlin…Remus…that was brilliant. You've never lost it like that before." His voice held a note of awe, and Remus ducked his head a little.

"Mmph. Yes. Well. We need to shower. Come on. I know you're tired, but we haven't a magical way of cleaning ourselves, so up you get."

"All right," Harry sighed in agreement. "But I still want to wear the leash to bed," he told the werewolf, who stared. "I _like_ the leash."

"Don't be stupid," Remus grinned. "You'd only get all tangled up in it. Now come on, let's get cleaned up."

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The next morning, Remus woke to a banging noise, as things were thrown about the room in a hurry. "Get up! Get up, you fools! We have to get moving! Here; let me shrink your effects." The werewolf watched, blurry-eyed, as Severus shrunk his belongings into a compact little bundle.

"What's going o—aaahhhh—on?" he yawned, stretching greatly.

"They've found you. You have to move. _Now_. I'm going to Apparate out of here; Mundungus should be here in exactly five minutes, to pick you up. You're to get in the car as quickly as possible, and I'm going to meet you several blocks away. Now get _moving_, you infuriatingly indolent bastard!"

Harry grunted, waking. "Umph. What's all the noise?" he groaned, sitting up and fumbling for his glasses.

Snape gaped at the boy, shock and abhorrence written across his face. "Dear _God_! Why the hell is Potter wearing a dog collar!?"

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Thanks to: TeamExtremeGurl, LeprechaunQueen, GryffRavHuffSlythendor, goody2sho, Yuku no Yatsu, HecateDeMort, Frenchy, Me (That's funny; I can thank me!), Katte, Dracula5555, Gia, the perpetual Poicale, Prlrocks: There was less angst in this one, but more Dom!Remus, so hopefully it evens out. 

silver-sunn101: I hope this chapter is as much of a pick me up as the last one! Building plans? I don't remember that. Where was that? Hm. That is interesting, though. I didn't like the place, so I blew it up. Fanfic writer's prerogative. Snape is like me…in the sarcasm and cynicism. I don't much look like him, though. Well, on the other hand, I do have very dark eyes….

HellPhoenixSirius: Don't worry about the Hermione thing, I was just giving you grief. She is a little too convenient, isn't she? I'm trying not to put anything TOO intimate on FF, keeping those bits on AFF instead. I try to take out the dirtier bits and make it milder. Is it working?

Hakkai - Gojyo - Goku – Sanzo: (Laughs) I actually just realized I needed a plot. I got as far as the leather bar and meeting with Mundungus, where Remus said, 'Why are we here?' type of thing, and I went: 'I…don't…know. Huh. How 'bout that?' So then I had to brainstorm and come up with some possible directions. I'm such a doofus. Sorry that there are less mirror-emotions here, but there'll be more in the future.

Phoenixdreams: I'm glad you're enjoying it. Different things make different people squick; my goal is to write well enough that even people that would ordinarily squick discover that they're enjoying themselves. Thanks!

Immortal Memories: I want a Remus, too! Let's start a Remus factory and sell them in bulk! We'd make a bundle.


	7. On the Road Again

TITLE: Research and Development Part VI; On the Road Again

AUTHOR:

PAIRING: Remus/Harry

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Still on the run, and on the move once again, Remus puzzles over a mystery for the Order, while Harry fights to prove to everyone—including himself—that he's not a child.

CATEGORY: (Drama / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: The Slick ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: The song 'Ask' is by The Smiths; thanks to Adele for sending it to me, along with the rest of the fabulous fanfic soundtrack. It was a lot of fun, but 'Ask Me' fit Harry and Remus so darn well that I just had to laugh. The other songs included belong to Coldplay, Willie Nelson, and Elton John. Now _there's_ a variety for you. Bonus points to whomever really _gets_ the Coldplay song. **Okay, so one of you asked me to read something you wrote. As far as I can recall, it maybe had the word 'up' or 'until' in the title. I went to check it out, but cannot find the email. Yes, I am an idiot, thanks for pointing that out. If any of this sounds like something you may have done, please let me know, so I can go and read it, because it's driving me crazy. Brain work not good. Good not brain work. You know? Thanks!**

THANK YOUS: At the bottom of the page

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Part VII: On the Road Again

"I bought it myself," Harry announced proudly, and it took every ounce of Remus's willpower to keep from smacking his hand to his forehead. Dammit, he'd told the boy to put the sex toys _away._

Snape, of course, just stared.

"They're all the rage. Everyone who knows what's 'in' has one—in the Muggle world, anyhow. I'm going to start a trend at Hogwarts. Just wait 'till Ron and Hermione see it; they'll be dead jealous. Isn't it wicked?"

"Wicked. Yes. If your fashion needs dictate humiliation and ownership, I can always give you right over to the Dark Lord. I'm sure he'd fulfill your every degrading whim most satisfactorily." Twisting his lip in disgust, Severus shook his head.

Harry smiled his perfectly innocent smile up at the Potions Master, as Remus quickly tried to dress himself. Seeing the look of complete guilelessness on the boy's face, the werewolf mused, _By Merlin, he's good. He's damn good. We may actually get away with this._ "You just wish you had one," Harry informed the man sweetly.

Snape snorted. "Five minutes. Keep your heads down." He Disapparated with a noise like a whip crack.

Remus couldn't spare a look of reproach for the boy, as they raced around gathering their belongings. Before any time had seemed to pass, a honk sounded outside, and Remus gathered what he could with one arm and grabbed Harry with the other. "I'll count to three, open the door, and then we'll make a run for it."

On 'three' he threw the door back, hauling the boy out behind him. A blast of green light came from their left, and they ran toward a mini that was idling at the curb. Another burst of magical light shot their way, and Remus used his body to shield Harry as much as possible. The back door of the mini flew open as they approached, and Remus hurled the packages in before lifting Harry and tossing him bodily inside as well.

He threw himself in after the boy and shouted to Mundungus, who'd been waiting to be certain everyone was in, "Go! Go, go, go!" The car had obviously been magically altered, because it rocketed down the street at a speed no Muggle mini could approach. A black figure was quickly advancing on the left, and Remus hollered, "You're going to pass Severus! Stop!"

Mundungus slammed on the breaks, and Harry and Remus were thrown against the backs of the front seats. Harry landed on the floor with a yelp, and the werewolf helped him up, anxiously saying, "Oh, my poor little Green Eyes. Are you all right?" Mundugus shot him a strange look as he crawled out of the car. Remus scrambled into the front seat, getting behind the wheel.

"Red lever," Mundungus told the werewolf. "Watch your backs."

Snape threw open the door and leapt into the car beside Remus, snarling, "Get a move on it, you migraine-inducing cur!" The car rocked as a curse hit it broadside. "They're almost on top of us!"

"Um. It's been an awfully long time since I've done this. Here, I think I'm supposed to step down on this—" The car gave a grumble and died. "Oh. Sorry."

"You've—you've murdered the engine!" Snape growled. "Get out of my way, you louse-infested buffoon! _I'll_ drive the damn thing."

"It's 'killed,'" Harry noted from the back seat, _sotto voce_, his voice only slightly hysterical. "Not 'murdered.' 'Killed.'" _As if it matters, because in a few seconds, they'll be able to use the words interchangeably to describe US!_ Remus obviously had no idea what he was doing, and Snape didn't even know the _words_ for the tools being used. They were so, incredibly fucked.

"Snape," Remus was saying patiently, even as he made way for the spy, "You don't know how to drive. At least I _have_ driven, although it's been a while. It will come back to me."

"Yes, _everything_ is about to come back to you," Snape retorted, starting the car up without problem. "It's called your life flashing before your eyes." He reached down to what looked like the emergency brake, only red, and pulled it back. Immediately, the car began spinning rapidly, and colored lights streamed along the windows.

Harry couldn't look for long before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Ugh," he said in a muffled voice, "I think I'm going to be ill."

"Don't you dare, don't you _dare_!" Snape yelled, snapping the lever down again. The car stopped rotating. Scenery popped up outside the windows, then suddenly vanished again and was replaced with something else. This happened several times, and Harry boggled at it. It _looked _as though they were simply arriving quite abruptly amidst the scenery, but nothing _moved, _so it _felt_ as though the scenery was arriving around _them_.

The Potions Master took a couple of deep breaths. "There. Now. We've arrived at our…destination." He peered at the dashboard, where the round protuberance of a globe bobbled. "We're…a few miles east of where we need to be. So. All we have to do is…aim the car in the proper direction, and…propel it." He licked his lips several times, as Harry and Remus watched in silence. "So. Yes. I just…push down—" The car died again.

Remus's mild smile bordered suspiciously on a smirk. "Now _you've_ slain the engine," he pointed out with quiet glee.

"Killed the engine," Harry corrected.

"Shut up," Snape told both of them.

"Never mind," Remus sighed, becoming sober once more. "Do we need to keep on running, or have we lost them? Because if we've got time, I can probably figure out how to get it running."

Snape's shoulders slumped a little. "Oh, very well," he testily acquiesced. "We've lost them. The car is Arthur's. He did show me what to do with it—several times, in fact. The idea that I might actually have to work the contraption never occurred to me. The Spatial Alteration Lever still worked, at any rate. The Charmed Chart is that little jiggling sphere on the dash. You see that red spot? That's what we're heading for. Now, if you think you can control this machine so much better then I can, I beg you to prove it." He got out of the mini, stretching his long legs, and walked around to the other door, and Remus scooted into the driver's seat again.

"Yes. You turn the key to start it." The engine sputtered, and did not start. "Oh, yes. You have to press down on the pedal at the same time!" This time, the car started up, but shuddered to a halt after only a few feet. "Oh, that's _right_. You see here, Harry?" he said, making the task into a learning experience. "You have to push this down, too, and then…"

They eventually crawled through the heart of a small town, the farmers watching with interest as Remus refused to make the mini go faster than a man could walk, and proceeded to cause the car to die at every light, stop sign, and crossroads. Harry sank down in the back seat, mortally embarrassed. "Sorry, kiddo," he saw the werewolf's eyes flashing at him in the rearview mirror. "Apparating is much easier. We'll be there shortly."

The Potions Master snorted. "If by 'shortly' you mean, 'hopefully within the next decade and if we get there at all.'"

The bobbling globe directed them to a little cottage, and Harry was dismayed to find that it had three beds. It wasn't about the sex, really. After all, last night had been rougher than he was used to, and he could probably stand to wait a while before doing it again. No, what he'd miss was the closeness, the intimacy of waking up with his head tucked in Remus's arm, and feeling the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. He'd miss the way Remus would growl softly in his sleep and pull Harry back against him whenever the boy rolled away.

This was not going to be easy. Remus turned to Snape. "While we're here, I want to teach you and Harry how to drive the car as well. We can't have a repeat performance of this morning, can we?"

"If I must," Snape capitulated sourly. Harry hid a grin. Snape and Lupin, stuck in a mini together, with Lupin telling Snape what to do. He made a mental note to bring some bandages along to patch them up. Oh, well. If nothing else, it'd probably be a good show.

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"So how did they find us?" Harry demanded once their things had been unpacked.

"The Headmaster will tell _you_ when he feels you should be informed," Snape replied smoothly. "Go to your room and practice clearing your mind while I speak privately with your 'guardian,' if you want to call him that."

"I will not!" Harry responded. "I deserve to be informed. I _need _to be informed. Look what happened last year! That never would have happened if someone had told me what was going on."

"Harry," Remus said quietly. "I understand why you feel this way. But there are some things it is better you don't know. Let me speak with Professor Snape alone, and I will decide what you need to be told."

"I'm not a child," Harry frowned. "Stop treating me like one. Don't you trust me?"

Remus's expression did not change. "Yes, I do. But you are not fully trained as a wizard, and right now I need _you_ to trust _me._ Go to your room. Now."

Harry stomped into his room and slammed the door, as Severus scowled and Remus grimaced at his back. Harry threw himself down on the bed, seething. _How dare he? How DARE he? Acting as though I'm some ninny-headed first year that would babble a secret away at a drop of the Sorting Hat. He should know me better! Haven't I kept HIS secret? OUR secret? THE secret? I'm better at lying about it than HE is. And then he has the gall to just—just—order me to my room like a little kid who's thrown a tantrum! Well, yeah, I like bossiness SOMETIMES, but not when it's my life that hangs in the balance! _He huffed out an angry breath and noticed that the room's light went dim for a moment. _Damn wandless magic. Been repressed too long—in THAT sense, anyhow…Stupid werewolf. Who does he think he is, anyway? I don't mind if he's domineering in the bedroom, but this!_

Remus flinched as the door slammed shut. He should have known that wouldn't work. It was one thing to be domineering in the bedroom, but this!

"Well, it's nice to see that some things never change," Snape spoke in a suspiciously sweet voice. "Birds will always fly, nations will forever rise and fall, and Potter will never cease to be a disgustingly selfish brat."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's enough, Severus. Can we get down to business?" He folded himself into a chair from the kitchen, thinking wistfully about how nice it would be to summon a hot cup of tea. "How did they find us?"

"You were followed. Well, technically, _Mundungus_ was followed—to your meeting place, and when the follower saw you and Potter, you were followed back to the hotel." Snape remained standing, looking cold and imposing, particularly against the homey backdrop of the cottage.

"But…if that's so, why weren't we attacked immediately upon arriving? Why did they wait until morning?" Remus puzzled.

Snape's lip curled upward in the parody of a smile. "To answer that, we must start with the object Mundungus bequeathed to you."

Remus started. "The handkerchief?" He patted his pockets a bit before remembering it was in his trunk. Retrieving it, he said, "Fletcher said I had to give it to you. What is it? Why on earth is it important, and what am I expected to do with it?"

The Potions Master rolled his eyes, looking exasperated. "How do you function without someone to explain every little detail of life to you? Just hand me the damn thing, would you?"

Remus held it out, and Snape tapped it smartly with his wand, chanting, "Refigofixum!" The handkerchief melted away to reveal a small, tattered scrap of silk. The Potions Master immediately held it up before Remus's nose, saying, "Well, _Canidae_ of inferior lineage, do your duty and play bloodhound!"

The werewolf wrinkled his nose at this, plucking the scrap meticulously from the man's long fingertips. "Merlin, Severus, what kind of potions have you been brewing? Your hands smell of goat urine," he complained.

"Lovely. Personal remarks from someone who has canine halitosis on a _good_ day?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to—to _sniff_, here." Gingerly, he lifted the cloth to his nose. "Hmm. Now that's—huh." He shut his eyes and took another whiff. "It's…familiar. I'd almost say I've smelled it somewhat recently, but there's something off about it…" He opened his eyes, but let them stay unfocused. "Oh, there's vetiver there, definitely vetiver; but is it being used on its own or to cover something up? Because it's a strong scent…one that someone might use if they were trying to mask any other odors. Bergamot? But I couldn't swear to it…"

"Wonderful. So what you are saying, in essence, is that you are once again a complete waste of everyone's time? Why aren't I more surprised?"

"Well," Remus countered, trying to keep his temper in check, "Why don't you tell me what I'm supposed to be _looking_ for?"

Severus glared and seated himself across from the man. "Bill Weasley tore that off the Death Eater that destroyed Grimmauld Place. The Death Eater had managed to break free of Arthur's spell, and young Mister Weasley foolishly attempted to confine him with mere brute strength, rather than magic. For his troubles, he received nothing more than a black eye and that lousy bit of silk. So. We'd like to know, in fact, which Death Eater was the one that got away."

Remus blinked. "But what difference does it make? There isn't a new one that we don't know of, is there?"

"No, Lupin." Severus shut his eyes, giving the impression of extreme frustration. "Whoever demolished your ex-partner-in-bestiality's home did so…before the Dark Lord could be apprised of your presence there. That particular Death Eater acted prematurely and, as punishment, has been given the assignment of finding Potter—whatever the consequences. If he should fail, then he shall die. So you see, that scrap is the—the signature, if you would, of the person you most need to beware of, at this moment. And, should we be able to identify him—or her, I suppose; I really can't rule out Bellatrix—we may plan our counter moves accordingly."

"I see." Remus pondered this for a few moments. "You don't know the Death Eater in question?"

"Doubtlessly I have met them, but I have not been told the name of the person involved. When the alarm went off that indicated Potter had ingested the potion, the Dark Lord was…otherwise occupied. In the scramble to bring the good news to him, someone slipped away. That is all I know. Well, that, and it wasn't Crabbe. He was with me at the time. So. There you have it. Do try to be of _some _use, and dredge up the name of the person you connect the scent to, if you would. Now. I'm Apparating back to the school to let them know of our progress. Since you're the complete cretin that let yourself get chased away from your stores, I suggest you buy more food." Without so much as a 'Good day,' or even a 'Have a thoroughly unpleasant day,' Snape Disapparated.

Biting his lip in apprehension, Remus went to visit his mate. The lights were off in the bedroom, and Harry's slender form was curled rather tensely on the bed, his back turned resolutely to the door. Remus knew perfectly well the boy wasn't asleep—they'd only gotten up a few hours ago—but he felt uncertain about whether or not he should simply let his lover be, and let him think he had the werewolf fooled.

Harry heard the door swing in, and his whole body tensed up. He didn't want to face Remus right now. Remus still thought he was a little boy. Old enough to fuck, but not old enough to be informed of things that had a direct bearing on whether he'd live or die. Shit. He could pretend to sleep, but he wasn't sure it would fool the werewolf. With a loud sigh, he rolled over to face his lover.

"What do you want?" he grated.

"Harry…I'm sorry. I need to be cautious. _One _of us should be, right?" Harry didn't respond, and Remus faltered. After some hesitation, he recounted everything the Potions Master had told him. "…So I'll need you to be extra careful, all right? You can't go running off the way you tend to do. You need to think things through before acting, and I want you to stick as close to me as possible. When I'm not here, you shouldn't leave the house. Understand?" He looked at the boy anxiously.

Harry stared back coldly. _You're my pet, and I'll do with you what I please, and you'll do NOTHING without my permission, _was the way Remus' lecture translated to his ears. "I understand perfectly well," he replied levelly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy. Please leave."

Remus sat down beside him. "Harry, I know you're upset with me," he began, reaching out, but when he touched the boy's arm, he felt Harry go rigid. A sudden hollow fear formed in his chest, and he quickly withdrew his hand. "I am sorry. Please try to be mature about this, won't you? Just because I cannot divulge every secret of the universe to you, does not mean that I don't care for you."

Harry nodded slowly. "I told you that I understand. I'm not as immature as you seem to think. I'd just…I think I'd like a little space, for a while." Oh, it was eating him up inside. He didn't want space, really; he wanted _love_, and _faith_, but his sixteen-year-old brain could not encompass that, so he settled for something less—his pride. _Let him view me as a tool to be used when he likes. We'll just see what happens when the tool stops doing its job, then._ Even trying to work himself into a good fit of anger couldn't take away the sharp pains slashing through his soul.

Remus twisted his hands in his lap. They _were _lovers, but he and Harry were not yet equals, and Harry needed to learn when to listen to Remus's wisdom and experience. At the same time, Remus had never enjoyed arguing, and hated it whenever someone was angry with him, and it twisted his heart to have the youth acting so frigid towards him. He rose slowly, saying, "I'm going to walk to the village and pick up some food. Are you sure you don't want to come along?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "No, thanks though. I've got some things I need to think about." He rolled over again, and did not respond when Remus softly kissed his shoulder.

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Remus was making supper by the time Harry finally came out of his room. "Smells nasty out here," the youth commented casually, and Remus winced.

"Eggs," he tried to explain. "I'm not great shakes at Muggle cooking, and Snape isn't back yet. But I bought some bread and eggs in town, and we have mayonnaise, and I thought; _anyone _can boil an egg. Sandwiches for supper, see?" Harry peered around him at the pan, in which several eggs were hopping vigorously in the boiling water.

"Um. How long have those been in there?" he asked. The whole place _really stank_. There was a damp feeling to the air as well, as though the steam had been coming off for some time.

"A while, now," Remus said carelessly. "I undercooked the last batch, so this time I figured I'd better be _really sure_ they were completely done. Don't want to run out of eggs before we've even eaten any," he explained.

They heard a sound in the other room, and Severus' voice came floating into the kitchen. "Merlin's balls! What is that revolting _smell_?"

They sat at the kitchen table, Severus staring as Harry and Remus tried to choke down their sandwiches. "How can you _eat_ that?" the Potions Master asked at length. "It smells _rancid_. And I've got a _normal_ nose; I can't imagine how you can stand it, Lupin."

"I'm sorry to point this out, Severus, but no one in their right mind would ever claim that you have a 'normal' nose," Remus replied, rankled.

"It tastes kind of…burnt," Harry said eventually. "I didn't even know you _could_ burn a hardboiled egg." The werewolf shot him a hurt look, and Harry wriggled in his seat. "Maybe you ought to let me handle the cooking, if we're doing it the Muggle way."

"Yes, but…" Remus looked at his plate. "Muggle cooking is very different from Wizard cooking. I don't want you to hurt yourself on the stove or something. I think you ought to leave it to me. I'm _bound_ to get better at it."

Harry glared at the man, but Remus was looking at his plate and missed it completely. "Well, I have absolutely _no_ experience with Wizard cooking, aside from watching Mrs. Weasley," Harry pointed out, "But I've got _loads_ of experience doing Muggle cooking and cleaning. I practically did _all_ the day-to-day stuff at the Dursleys'. I know damn well how to work a stove, Lupin," he added.

"Mouth, Potter," Snape grunted, although he sounded amused. "Although you may be…not wholly incorrect. After all, I am going to have to eat here as well, sometimes. I refuse to ingest anything prepared by a man who cannot surmise how to boil an egg. I thought even _Longbottom_ would have been capable of _that_ much."

Remus pinched his lips together, which made it difficult to take another bite of his sandwich. Not that he wanted to; it truly was nasty.

"Well, Potter, if you are…content with your sustenance for the evening, perhaps we ought to turn our sites to the unreachable goal of rendering you adequate at Occlumency."

Harry glanced down at the rest of his sandwich. Oh, well. He'd skipped meals before, and it hadn't killed him. "All right," he said agreeably. They left Lupin to clean up.

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Remus lay awake in bed that night, worrying. He hated leaving Harry alone with Snape for any length of time, but when he'd asked, Harry insisted that he would be fine on his own. It was just that Severus _hated _Harry, as though Harry had simply been put on this earth to be some sort of permanent reminder of James, and torment Severus with his very existence. Remus was sure Snape didn't quite have Harry's best interests at heart, although he did believe the man was on the side of the light. Severus was simply so immature sometimes, and that temper of his…

He rolled over and sat up, hearing footsteps quietly crossing the hall. A creak of a door told Remus that Harry was finally back in his own room. The lesson had ended for the night. Was the boy all right? He couldn't help but recall that the _last_ time Harry had attempted to learn Occlumency from the Potions Master, neither one of them had come out unscathed. He slipped his legs out from under the sheets and stood up. Using his animal grace, he silently glided out of his room, down the hall, and into Harry's.

When Harry felt the weight suddenly shift the mattress beside him, he sat up gasping. He scrambled for his glasses and turned to Remus, wide eyed. "Good _grief_! You scared me half to death! Don't sneak up on me like that, would you?" He fell back against his pillows, heart still beating frantically.

Remus smirked uncharacteristically. "I was trying to be quiet. Sorry I frightened you, Bright Eyes." He swiftly pressed a kiss to the boy's lips, and felt Harry freeze again. He pulled back a little in confusion.

Harry took a deep breath. "Don't, Remus," he eventually managed. "Please. I'm just. I'm really not in the mood, all right? I'm completely exhausted; I'd just like a good night's rest. Just once. Please?"

Remus twisted uneasily. "Sure, Harry. I didn't necessarily come in here to pound you into the mattress, you know," he murmured. "I know you don't like these lessons with Snape, and I wanted…to offer what comfort I could."

Harry nodded, swallowing. _Pound me into the mattress…Jesus! He isn't going to make keeping this particular resolution easy, is he?_ "That's all right. Everything went…okay. Snape was Snape, and there was nothing I could do about that, but…I think I've gotten just a little better at it. It's just…really draining, is all." Nothing like having someone root through your mind, while you prayed they wouldn't find that _one_ thing, and trying to fight them off and mentally shove them away to really wear you out. He couldn't contain a huge yawn, and Remus grinned down at him. "You ought to leave before Snape figures out you're here."

"I could stay for just a little while," Remus offered. He brushed the dark hair back from the youth's face. "I could hold you until you fall asleep."

"You don't have to," Harry replied. Holding could lead to other things. He'd made a promise that there wouldn't _be_ other things until…well…until he was sure he would be treated more like an equal. "I'm fine, Remus."

"All right," the werewolf consented sadly, but continued to sit, and held Harry's hand for a long time before going back to his own room.

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The next day dawned sunny and clear, with a sky so blue that it seemed to elicit a song even in Snape's black heart, although Remus and Harry both could have done without hearing the man humming 'Tears on my Pillow' for most of the morning. Taking the initiative, Harry appropriated the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. By the time Remus wandered in to ask what he was doing, Harry was almost finished.

The werewolf frowned seriously as the boy began carrying dishes to the table. "Harry. I thought I told you not to mess about in here. There are Muggle appliances that can be dangerous. Why didn't you listen to me?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, "Sod off," but thought better of it. Taking several deep breaths and counting to a hundred, he sat at the table and looked at the man steadily before replying. "I am perfectly capable of operating an oven. It's not a mystery to me; I've done it many times before. I am familiar with all of the Muggles' modern conveniences, and can easily slap together something edible. Stop making a big deal out of this, please."

Remus frowned and began to reply, but was interrupted by Snape. "Well." He'd just finished a bite of omelet, and was staring at the youth meditatively. "I never thought I'd see the day, but there appears to be something that Potter is less than hopeless at. Now, if foodstuffs were any sort of weapon against the Dark Lord, I might actually be pleased about this. As it is, this is one more useless trait in the boy's arsenal, along with Quidditch, insolence, and making an ass of himself. Still, I suppose I ought to enjoy it for the moment." He lapsed into silence, tucking into the meal with something like approval, as Harry and Remus stared at him in utter disbelief.

"That was as close to a compliment as you've ever come to paying me," Harry pointed out.

"Hmph. I should have known it would go straight to your already overly large head. You're a repulsive simpleton with an arrogance rivaling Lucifer's. There, have I evened out again?" He sneered at the boy, and took a sip of his orange juice.

Harry felt unaccountably relieved. He faced enough changes in his life lately, without Snape suddenly becoming pleasant. "So. What's going to happen today?" he asked, pushing his food around on his plate. After last night, he felt he _should_ be hungry, but he was still upset with Remus, and still didn't have any idea about how to make the man understand that he was no longer a child.

"I thought we might start some driving lessons," Remus said airily. "Professor Snape isn't likely to be needed until tomorrow, and this might provide a welcome distraction. Not to mention I received an owl from Dumbledore instructing us that we will have to drive the car back to Arthur's. We're going to have to become proficient with it."

"Why can't the two of _you_ become proficient, and leave me out of it?" Snape growled. "I fail to see why I should waste my precious time learning to do something both difficult and stupid, simply because you and Potter refuse to pay attention to what you place in your mouths. I could Apparate to the Weasleys' in moments, while the two of you can creep your tacky way through the countryside, watching grandmothers hurtle past you."

"And what would happen if Harry and I were attacked?" Remus asked patiently. "Surely you wouldn't expect us to pull out our wands and draw the _rest_ of the Death Eaters to us?"

Severus scowled. "Fine," he spat. "But I want it on record that the two of you are miserable imbeciles with the brains of sardines. And no good will come of this!" he added ominously.

So the three of them found themselves buzzing along a backcountry road, Snape glaring, and Remus beaming. "You see?" he crowed triumphantly. "I _knew_ it would come back to me! Are you ready for a try, Severus?"

"Be still, my heart," Snape rolled his eyes. Remus pulled the car over, and they switched places.

"Now, be sure to put it in gear," the werewolf instructed, and the Potions Master gritted his teeth. "_Gooo_-oood," Remus said in a singsong tone, as though he were speaking to a five-year-old. "Now ease your foot onto—"

"Bloody hell!" Snape finally growled. "I watched you do it for the last hour; I think I can handle it! Would you kindly shut your mouth and let me think?"

After an hour, Snape seemed to have the hang of it, and Harry was getting desperately bored. "Turn on the radio, would you?" Remus was too busy playing teacher, so Harry leaned over the back seat and turned the knob on the dashboard.

"…_and honey, you should know that I could never go on without you…"_ floated from the speakers. Snape growled. "What utter rubbish," he remarked. "And how am I supposed to concentrate with that schmaltz oozing out?"

"We can turn it down, I think," Remus replied diplomatically. He began fiddling with the buttons, but only succeeded in switching stations. "…_so if there's something you'd like to try; ask me—I won't say no, how could I?…_" Harry grinned a little, humming along as he watched the countryside roll by.

"_More_ nauseating romance," Severus remarked, bravely taking his hand off the wheel long enough to snap the radio off. "There. Blessed peace."

"Hey, I _like_ that song!" Harry protested.

"I'm sure we can find some music we all agree on," Remus remarked, flipping the tuner back on. He flicked through the stations. "Oh…Here, what about this one?"

"I _refuse_ to listen to Elton John," Harry said flatly.

"For perhaps the first time ever, I agree with Mister Potter," Snape seconded. Harry leaned over and twisted the dial.

"But that's a good song!" Remus pushed Harry away and switched the radio back to 'Your Song,' while Harry groaned. "…I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind …" Remus sang happily, as Snape's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

"Remus…" Harry began, flinching a little. "Snape isn't liking this anymore than I am. You've been voted down, so switch the station." Remus ignored him, so Harry reached over the seat again. Remus switched right back, and Harry, grinning, leaned over again.

"Stop that, both of you!" Snape ordered. "Do you _want_ to end up dead in a ditch?" Harry laughed, and Remus went back to Elton. Slyly, the youth edged forward and darted a hand toward the knob, but Remus batted his hand away and shoved him back. "Would you—you both—stop—" the Potions Master stuttered as Harry punched Remus lightly in the arm, and was wrestled into the front seat in retaliation. His legs now crossed Snape, and one was hanging out the window. "DO NOT MAKE ME PULL THIS CAR OVER!" Severus finally roared, and Harry and Remus cringed.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Remus apologized. "That was neither mature nor productive."

"Nor out of character for either one of you childish Gryffindors," Snape grunted. "You're driving me mad, both of you."

Now Willy Nelson belted music happily from the speakers. "Oh, _lord_. Turn the station, would you, Remus?" Harry begged.

"…The life I love is making music with my friends, and I can't wait to get on the road again!" Remus crooned. An hour was _much_ too long a time to be stuck in a mini with a werewolf who had this level of bad taste in music.

"Snape…Voldemort doesn't sing, does he?" Harry groaned, sticking his head out of the window.

"Thankfully not," Snape replied grimly. "Lupin, if you don't shut up, I am aiming us at the next large tree I see, and accelerating to the best of my ability."

Remus merely grinned, and shut his mouth. It didn't stop him humming.

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Thanks to:

Queen of the Slash, HecateDeMort, StolenDreamer, Phat Cat, Maria, Dracula5555, Sweet Mercy , Eric2, WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Gia, HellPhoenixSirius, Silver Phire, Ayame Kyoko (fabulous to know you're on board, as always!),

Marshes to Banks –Aw, I wouldn't leave out a great scene like that! You know, a leash is almost better than a wand! There's sooo much potential for fun! Oh, well, about the Sirius thing. Although, I had considered having Alexander out of the country almost all the time, and not really up on current events. Worth a shot? Jade! That's quite a compliment! She does some great stuff. I'll have to keep the club in mind, although my next bits are all Hogwartscentric. Soooo much potential for tension, there.

prlrocks—(She was behind him on the stairs, but he shooed her out the door first, so Molly's okay. I did that intentionally so no one would worry. Didn't make it clear enough, did I? And you don't come off as a perv just from that. Spankings are practically _mundane_ in fanfic.)

Immortal Memories—K, now I want a dirty fanfic with multiple Remuses. Remusi? Hmm. Are there any like that out there? If not, I demand you write one! (cracks whip!) More Remus! I can't produce them all myself!

Kireina1—yeah…maybe eventually I'll write one with Remus on the other end of the leash. Hmm…I like new ideas…

sunnysparkles—I'd be willing to give up my entire salary to have Harry's leash scene written into canon. Wouldn't that be great?

C. LaBella—Then my insidious plot to convert you all to Remarry lovers is working? Actually with the real Remus, I wouldn't be too into it, but the Remus Lupin shrine has Ralph Fiennes, and let's face it, you can't go wrong with that kind of hotness!

GryffRavHuffSlythendor—I still think I'm better with Sev than anyone else…which is too bad, when he's not even a main character in the current fic!

goody2sho—Then more there shall be!

Poicale—Do you believe I didn't even know what 'recalcitrant' meant exactly? I've read it a million times, and I just started to type it in without really thinking. But I misspelled it, so I _had_ to look it up. And I was like, 'Yup. That's the word I wanted.' My brain knows things I don't. Isn't that scary? I can't answer your question, though, without giving a juicy plot point away.

Katte—Ha ha! I love the idea of Snape 'catching' them. Maybe I'll try that near the end or something. That could be fun to write.

Adele Sparks—We are _not_ a bunch of perverts! The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well. And we're so _tame_ compared to some of the others. And anyway, we're so _good_ at being perverts. Hee hee. I'm surprised anyone liked Alexander, he was just thrown in to be a minor plot point. I just went, 'Need Harry jealous. Bring hot guy from Remus' past. Need a hot name. Yo, Matt! What's a name you'd be envious of?' –huh?—You know; if you heard it, you'd be all, 'That's a cool name. I wish _I_ had that name.' And he tells me some weird shit. Decklin Ross. And I was like, _what_? Eventually he goes, '…Well, I always liked the name Alexander…' And that was all the thought I put into it. Thanks for the muse/music, btw. Good stuff.

Hakkai - Gojyo - Goku – Sanzo—Now Remus has to figure out how to walk the line between sexily commanding and respectfully hands-off, as he is dealing with a mood-swinging adolescent. I think that adds obstacality. Did you notice how much fun I've had playing with the English language in the last few sentences?

silver-sunn101—I wish this chapter were as hot, but I needed plot. Sigh. And yes, I do feel the love. I wonder if those plans were for the Department of Mysteries. But why would they need them, if they had people working there? Hmm. Darn it, stop making me think! I'm a writer, not a…wait, I have to think for that, too…I'm glad to cheer you up; anytime! (I love Apple Flavored Werewolves, btw!)

Jemma Blackwell—It was _hard_ to write, last time, because I had to dream up a plot! You'd think I'd have done it before then, but oh, nooooo. I have to be contrary and stick the plot in last-minute! I have been _meaning_ to write back to you; I got the challenge at wishforthemoon from the fantabulous Godless Harlot. Some of my fav. fanfic authors/stories are !ShadowPhoenix! (well, _spluh_) Um. Bracken's Remarry…shit. Hard to do this off the top of my head. Aspen, for the rather dirty stuff, of course Rhysenn and Maya, two awesome Harry/Draco authors (as I'm sure you know), Stinkybubbles, Adele Sparks _who needs a computer so somebody please buy her one_, oooh, Daegar and Louise Lux for GO fics in particular, Switchknife is damn good, Debchan is hysterical…I'll think of others, I'm sure. I think I'll put a different one up every time I post, how's that? And thanks for asking. Oh, oh yeah! For Remarrys, Anise is one of my favorites. Dirty, sweet, and altogether slick. And Drworm and Dented Sky are good for that. Magelin Yedi is another good author. Rough stuff, and well done. But rough, so be warned.


	8. The Not So Submissive Partner

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Struggling to find a way to make everyone take him more seriously, Harry pushes Remus away. Remus misunderstands, and hurt and confusion blossom. They must learn to adjust the blurred lines of dominant and submissive partner, and where their roles in the bond are not quite so appropriate in everyday life.

CATEGORY: (Drama / Humor / Angst / Romance)

BETAS: The Sorcerous ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: I apologize for dragging ass on this one. I've been kind of…not so good…in the writing sense. Plus, my beta was having boatloads of trouble receiving her emails from me. (There! Another time when I can use her as a scapegoat! I didn't do it! Tee hee.)

Part Eight: The Not So Submissive Partner

Harry lay awake in bed that night, his curtains thrown back to let in the whitewash of moonlight from the silver sliver in the sky. He had his bed as close to the window as possible, and the pane lifted just a little to let the cool night breeze spill over his face. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could pretend he was flying. God, it seemed like so long since he really flew. Driving a car was simply nothing like it, no matter how fast they went.

Remus had insisted Harry take a turn on the way back to the house, and he felt like he'd gotten the hang of it pretty well, considering. After all, there were two polar opposites in the car with him the whole time, doing their utmost best to drive him insane. Remus was helpful and encouraging, while Snape griped and taunted. The werewolf had, at any rate, been cheerful and courteous to Harry—in the car, at least. Then they'd gotten home and Remus insisted on making dinner, and Harry had become so fed up with his irrational paranoia that he actually barricaded himself in the den with Snape afterwards, and requested extra Occlumency training.

If Snape thought something was particularly strange about that, he didn't mention it. He just did he usual thing: cutting insults, vicious ridicule, and unrealistic demands. If anything, he seemed ever so slightly pleased that Harry was taking him seriously. Harry couldn't help it; the only time he could forget about his complicated relationship with Remus was when he was so angry he couldn't think straight. Snape was very good at provoking him to such a state.

Afterwards he had collapsed in a chair by the fire, watching as the Potions Master eyed him suspiciously while he re-collected his thoughts from a pensieve, nodded once, glaring, and left. Harry sat for almost two hours, waiting for Remus to fall asleep. _Not yet, Potter, not yet; he's bound to be up still…Don't want to face him now—face him yet—do this yet…You want him to treat you like a man, you want him to respect you—you'd better start by showing yourself some respect, or nobody else ever will._ And he knew, without a doubt, that Remus was up there, up…there…waiting…up…for him. Waiting, with those predator's eyes that cut through the night, with those soft hands that no Boy Who Lived could resist. Better not to go up just yet. Better to wait. Only after he was very sure that Remus would be asleep, _must_ be asleep, did Harry creep into his own room, into his own bed.

Remus could not have dreamt of sleeping. He didn't know what was going on. One moment, Harry was fine. The next, he was as cool and distant as the very mistress that graced the night sky and ruled his blood. And every bit as mysterious. He'd volunteered to do his lessons early—with _Snape_! What could it mean? He tried to tell himself that he ought to be glad that Harry was taking the threat of Legilimency with a measure of sobriety, but the wolf inside the man was howling with jealousy and fear. Could he lose his mate to the Potions Master? Was that even possible? A werewolf's mate had to…but wait…didn't _necessarily_ have to stay with their partner for life. Wasn't it the werewolf that was in danger of suffering, as always? _Damn. Why the bloody, sodding hell did that book have to get incinerated with the rest of our things? I could really do with some answers, right now. Or some whiskey…_

He slipped over to the roll-top desk and pulled out a bottle. It wasn't Old Ogden's; it was just some Muggle brand, but it was ninety proof, and that was all that mattered to Remus at the moment. He drank long and hard, as he'd not done for so long, so very long. And as he drank, he envisioned the liquid intoxicant running through his veins, stealing his soul away from her, from _him_, making Remus his own animal again.

Harry gazed at the mirror that hung between his wall and Remus's. He wished it were a window…he wished he could see his mate. No! No, he did _not _want to see his mate. Well, yes, he might _like_ to, but he didn't _need _to, and that made all the difference. He was in control. He was not a child, to be ruled by his emotions. He could go on very well without Bloody Emperor Lupin. He had before. He had, hadn't he?

The trouble was, Harry could hardly remember being without Lupin. Of course, a lot of his life had been spent without the man, but now that he'd found him, all that time seemed inconsequential, blurred, and colorless. Meaningless. How had he gotten by without that powerful rush of love and devotion and lust Remus inspired in him? _Oh, that's right. Mostly by wanking. And picturing him, too. _His hand slipped under the blankets. _God. Better when he does it._ Taking a deep breath and trying not to make any noise, he slid his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

"Harry?" a whisper came from outside the door, causing the youth to yelp in fright.

Yanking his hand back out and straightening the covers, he hissed, "_Jesus, Remus!_ I told you not to do that. What do you want?" He watched, grinding his teeth, as the werewolf pushed his door open and stepped inside. He half walked, half stumbled over to the bed with the air of one who thinks he is assuming great dignity. It did not escape Harry that Remus was nowhere near as smooth as he'd been last night.

"Harry…" the name escaped the man's lips with a sigh, and he plunked himself down on the bed. "How'd the lesson go?"

"Just fine thanks and couldn't that have waited 'till morning?" the boy rushed out in one breath.

Remus tried to smile. "Erm. Guess so. I just…wanted…to know. I guess. Wanted to see you, is all. I missed you."

The look the man was giving him was so blatantly, desperately hungry that Harry began to feel uncomfortable. The student couldn't help but notice that Remus's shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his lovely pectorals, the flat stomach, and the hair that lightly crossed his chest and crept down, down, till it was a straight line, pointing right toward—

"Harry. I've _missed_ you. Haven't you missed me at all?" The man bent forward and swept Harry into his arms, kissing him soundly.

Harry felt himself melting. The warmth, the wet, the _need_ were all right where they were supposed to be—in Remus's lips. _Merlin, yes, I've missed this sooooo much._ He moaned soundlessly into Remus's mouth, and the man's hands came up, nimble fingers tenderly creeping under his t-shirt, kneading his muscles, caressing his nipples. At this, Harry woke from his sexually aroused stupor, jerking a little and causing their teeth to clatter together.

"Mmmph. Harry, are you all right?" Remus softly cupped his face, nose inches away from Harry's own.

Harry stared at him for a long moment. "That's _liquor_ on your breath! I knew it. I could _taste_ it. God, Remus. What the hell are you doing?"

Remus was riding the swells of intoxication, fighting for that clean, sharp cognizance that came so easily when he was sober. "What am I doing? Harry…I've _missed _you, and I _need _you, and what the hell is your problem lately?"

Harry gaped. "My problem? My _problem_? My problem is that you go about lecturing me on the subject of maturity—as though I wander about needing my nappies changed—telling me how I _should_ do this and I _shouldn't_ do that, and how you don't trust me to take care of one damn thing by myself, and then you show up _here_, in my bedroom, at one in the morning, three sheets to the wind. Really, did you think about what would happen if Snape caught you in here? And _I'm _the one that's immature?"

"Harry."

"Get the hell out of my room, you stupid drunk. What the hell is the matter with you, anyway?" Harry marched over to the door and threw it open. Snape stood, framed and menacing, his arms crossed over his chest.

Harry and Remus stared at him. "Well, well, well. Out of your bed and prowling round the house at night, Lupin? I suppose if you're once a Gryffindor, you're always a Gryffindor. What sort of trouble have you been causing, that you felt it necessary to sneak into Potter's room?"

Remus watched in horror as Harry's mouth opened. Here it came, then: the final betrayal. He couldn't even understand what he had done, that Harry had ceased loving him so abruptly, and now Harry would do the one thing that would cut him to the core. It was unthinkable; in his days at Hogwarts, the Marauders would never have _dreamed _of turning on each other, no matter how angry they were, no matter what the situation…except Peter… Remus watched the boy take a deep breath, and wondered how badly it hurt when your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Harry glared up at the imposing figure, and drew himself up to his full height. "None of your goddamn business, you nosy gargoyle! Go the hell away and leave us alone! If I want to have a private heart-to-heart with my godfather's best friend, then I've every right to do that. You may be a big man in the Order, spying on this, that, and the other thing, but don't you dare think you can start spying on _us_."

Harry stared at the Potions Master, his face red, his chest heaving. Snape regarded him coolly. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter, for you _extreme_ immaturity."

"You can't take points. The term hasn't even started, yet!" Harry was bristling, outraged.

"The points will be deducted once it has. Goodnight, Mister Potter." Snape began a measured tread back to his own room. "And Lupin? If I catch you wandering into Potter's room in the middle of the night, again, I am going to mistake you for a Death Eater and kill you on sight. Be warned."

Harry turned to Remus with a snarl on his lips and gesticulated for the man to leave. Remus slowly rose to his feet and crossed the room, looking miserable and lost. Just as he passed Harry, the youth had second thoughts. He didn't want to _hurt_ the man, and that was obviously what he'd done. He just needed Remus to change his perspective a little. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "Wait," Harry pled softly. Remus looked up in mild surprise, and the boy rose up on his tiptoes to press their lips together in a fleeting kiss. Harry put his arms around Remus, resting his head on the man's shoulder, and Remus's arms came uncertainly to circle the boy's waist. "I'm sorry," Harry mumbled against Remus's shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm just. This is hard, you know? I need a little breathing room; that's all. Just a little breathing room. And no more getting sauced. All right?"

Remus smiled sadly as Harry pulled away. "Sure, Green Eyes. Anything you want. Anything at all."

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Harry went and flopped back down on his bed, groaning quietly. Of all the irritating—! Well, he'd held his ground, at any rate. He hadn't given in. No sex. Not until Remus saw him as someone capable of making his own decisions. …At least he wasn't aroused anymore. Not _so_ aroused, anyway. Having Remus put his arms around him, pressing his hand into the small of Harry's back…that hadn't really helped. That first kiss, when Remus had just scooped him up and engulfed him…just thinking about that was making Harry excited again. And here he was, thinking he didn't really need to wank off anymore. Well, Harry _could_ still do _that_, at least. If he wanted. He didn't _have _to. He didn't have to do anything. It was his choice. He found himself choosing to yank down his underwear and let his hand encircle his growing erection. He licked his lips, tasting Remus and hot whiskey. He pictured Remus's lips against his once more, that bold, aggressive tongue invading his mouth. He imagined Remus's eyes, burning deeply into his own, then slowly taking in the rest of his body, relishing the sight of his exposed, tender flesh. He imagined Remus leaning over him, smiling that ravenous, sharp smile, and he took Harry's hand in his own and stroked _faster and faster and harder and…_

Remus slunk dejectedly into his bedroom, and slid back between the sheets. Merlin, had he ballsed it up this time. He'd been so _thick_, to think he could steal into Harry's room with Snape around. Why had he done that? It was so unlike him. And now Harry was more upset with him than ever. But of course, Harry _had_ kissed him, right at the end. Such a kiss…so light, so sweet, _so_ much headier than any whiskey. He licked his lips, tasting youth and innocence and Harry. Gnawing his lower lip, he rolled over, pulling the downy pillow over his head. He should _not_ be getting aroused by just a kiss. Oh, how he missed that clever little tongue, the way it liked to run along his teeth, tickle the roof of his mouth, and be cornered and captured and petted by his own. Remus began to realize that his hips had a mind of their own, and made a conscious effort to stop rubbing himself against the bed. His resolve didn't last long. There were too many stimulating memories of Harry flitting through his mind, too much of an electric current running through his blood. Too many things about the boy that Remus found erotic. Even the memory of his voice—that pure, mellow voice, inspired the werewolf to reach down and squeeze himself lightly. He thought of Harry's cheeks, stained with a flush of desire, of his eyes, lit up with lust, of his smooth, lissome body arching and shuddering and he pushed down _Merlin, yes, harder and harder into that sweet fire, that slick skin…_

Harry clenched his teeth, glaring at the moon. What the hell was the _problem_? Sure, he'd had an argument with Remus…and another with Snape…and spent hours listening to soft rock from the seventies, but…why would that affect _this_? He felt his face heat up. This was becoming horribly embarrassing, even if no one ever found out about it. Well, it wasn't like he couldn't get it _up_. He just couldn't get _off_. Dear Merlin, he'd never been so frustrated in his entire life—not when the Dursleys were stopping him getting his mail, not when Ron didn't believe him about the Goblet, not when he'd been stuck at Privet Drive last summer with no idea what was going on in the rest of the world—_never_. He _wanted_ to come, he really, honestly did, and he was…he was _sure_ he was, well, _randy_ enough, but he just couldn't make it happen. None of his favorite fantasies were working—not the one under the Christmas tree, not the one on the desk, and not the one in the back of the mini, which wouldn't have worked anyway, unless one of them was double-jointed. The only time he came close was remembering the last time Remus had taken him, and taken him roughly, with the leash and the collar and his hand stifling the poetry of porn that he'd been dying to spout, and _Oh God, why can't I just get it over and forget about it?_ A thought suddenly occurred to Harry, and he dropped lightly off the bed and made his way across the room to his trunk. Opening it as quietly as he could, he rummaged round until he felt it—ah, yes. There it was. Navigating the creaky floorboards, he got back into bed, and looped the collar around his neck, tightening the strap securely. Immediately, he felt a vast rush of sensuality, and a deep and thrilling connection to his mate. He leaned back and closed his eyes, one finger hooked through the ring of the collar, the other hand reaching down. He kept the pressure of his finger pulling the collar steadily, and imagined he was linked directly to the werewolf. Gasping, he finally found release.

Smiling, he unhooked the collar and let it drop to the floor. He didn't need Remus for this. He was sure he'd have the older man eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of the week. He'd _have_ to come to see Harry as someone self-reliant and mature. After all, Remus had been denied this sort of pleasure for far too long. How long could he possibly hold out?

Remus growled into his pillow. It didn't help at all that his extra-sensitive werewolf ears could hear every little moan the boy made, in there. The little bastard. And as much as it turned him on, Remus could _not_ find release from it. Maybe his mate had to be there. After all, he'd let every indecent fantasy he'd ever had about the boy play out in his head, and none of them was quite enough. Not the one in the shower, not the one with the whipped cream, not the one on the desk, not even the one with manacles at every corner of the bed. The closest he could come, literally, was when he remembered the last time he'd mounted the boy, with that sinful collar and the leash and having lost it completely till he was thrusting so roughly he was _sure_ he'd hurt the boy. _Damn_. Why had the boy gone and fulfilled one of those devilishly kinky fantasies? It was making it much harder to satisfy himself thinking of anything else. Finally he remembered the leash, and out of an absence of any better ideas, dug it out of his suitcase. God, just the feel of the leather in the palm of his hand…he brushed the strap against himself, shivering with pleasure. When he wound it about his fist, he could imagine Harry was there, on the other end, waiting to be ravished. Tightening his fingers around the leash, he pictured Harry, connected to him by that naughty bedroom accessory. Stifling a cry, Remus finally came. Sighing, he swore under his breath. He'd half to clean the leash off by hand, since he couldn't use magic.

Oh, well. At least he'd made it through another night without Harry. He didn't know _what_ the kid's problem was. Well, Remus would show _him._ If Harry wanted to be sulky, than Remus would be all right on his own. He didn't _have_ to have the youth every night. He didn't know what game Harry was playing, but Remus was convinced he'd be the one to win. After all, Remus had learned to do with just his hand before Harry had even been born. And Harry was passionate teen with raging hormones. They'd just see who went crawling to whom.

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The next morning, Harry tumbled out of bed, feeling a bit better about life. He bounded into the kitchen and therefore into Snape, who gave him his usual death glare. Harry just smiled brightly and said, "I'm going to make some tea and toast. Want any?" Snape merely grunted, which Harry chose to take as assent. "You're not stopping in at Hogwarts today for any reason, are you?"

Snape gave him a haughty look beneath his rather greasier-than-usual hair. "I am not in the habit of informing you of my schedule, Potter. You can keep _your_ 'gargoyle nosiness', or what have you, to yourself."

Harry sighed. Time to bring out the big guns. "Hmm. I'm actually pretty hungry. I don't think just toast is going to do it. How about some lovely eggs Benedict? I think we have everything we need…" He hummed quietly to himself as he bustled about the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and utensils. Harry was keenly aware of the dark eyes flickering towards him whenever his back was turned. "I wasn't being noisy," he said conversationally after a little while. "I was just wondering if you would pick something up for me. Here, try the sauce. Does it need salt?" Before an answer could be produced, Harry shoved the tip of the spoon in the man's mouth.

Snape jerked away, scowling, but Harry couldn't help but noticed that he licked his lips rather a few more times than was necessary. "And just _what_, Potter, could you possibly need from Hogwarts, especially given the time of year?"

Harry shrugged, seemingly absorbed in the process of ladling the sauce over the eggs. "Oh, nothing much. A couple of books, maybe. If you could get them, that is."

Snape turned his suspicious scowl on 'high-beam.' "And what books would these be, Mister Potter? Restricted books, one would assume?"

"No," Harry smiled, turning round holding a couple of plates. "Just, you know; _books_. Like on magic. That type of thing."

"Your clarity is deeply underwhelming," Snape replied dryly, his eyes on the food.

"I'm _bored_, Professor. I can't practice Occlumency _all_ the time, and there are only three meals in a day, not counting tea. And Remus usually shoves me off of cooking dinner. So I need something to do. I already finished my course books for the year, so maybe you could think of a few titles that might help me brush up on stuff? Or information you think I'd find useful?" He held a plate up under the Potions Master's nose, and the man's eyes fluttered shut.

"I suppose…that's true…" He sounded as though the words had been tethered to wild horses. "You won't…be trying any _practical_ applications?"

"Of course not!" Harry gave him a sweet smile and handed him a plate. "Just bring me something interesting; that's all I'm asking. Now, where's the tea? Dig in, Professor, while they're still hot!"

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Remus didn't come downstairs until almost two in the afternoon. Part of this was because he was nursing a raging headache, but part was because he wasn't especially up to facing Harry. He stayed in bed for most of the morning, thinking. Once he began to sober up, the world looked very different. Last night had been bad. Last night had been the worst night he'd faced since the bonding, and much worse than many prior to that. Harry had…rejected him. He wasn't even sure _why_. All he could think was that Harry was getting bored; he was only sixteen, after all, and what kind of fool expected a sixteen-year-old to settle down? The boy had clearly grown tired of him, and was beginning to resent the forced bond. _Harry wanted out._ Remus could barely contain the pain that welled up inside of him when he realized this.

It wasn't as though Remus could _blame_ the boy; after all, what sane human being would want to be saddled with an old, tatty, destitute werewolf for the rest of his or her life? And Harry, Harry had so many prospects! He was smart, he was talented; he was beautiful and generous and young. He had so much going for him. He deserved someone far better than Remus Lupin ever _could _be. And now it looked as though Harry had come to this realization, as well. What could Remus do? He couldn't give Harry up; the desire to be near his mate was too strong. Wasn't it? Did it matter? Why should it, if his very presence was making Harry miserable? He couldn't take that from the boy; shouldn't have accepted it in the first place. He should give Harry his freedom back. And, if it should kill Remus to do so…well, who was going to mourn an old, tatty, destitute werewolf, anyhow? All his friends were dead. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he should not have outlived the others. It was an error—a terrible oversight on Fate's part.

Growling, he finally got out of bed and began pacing. He couldn't keep thinking about this. This wasn't just a matter of Harry's freedom—Harry didn't _have_ any freedom, not as long as Voldemort was around. He had to be there for Harry, had to _protect_ him. It was what James would have wanted, what Sirius would have wanted. There didn't even have to be any shagging involved. After all, it was just a perk. It all came down to the fact that he cared—very deeply, in fact—about Harry, and would do anything to see he had a chance at happiness. And yes, sometimes he _might_ get a little carried away, he allowed, but that was only because Harry was so wonderful, and sweet, and delicate. All right, not _completely_ delicate, but Remus was more than aware that, with his enhanced werewolf strength, he could have snapped the boy's bones like twigs. In a sense, _everyone _else was delicate, compared to him. He just wanted Harry to be safe.

Suddenly, he stopped pacing. The best way to guarantee Harry's safety, he decided, was to determine which Death Eater was following them. And then, perhaps he'd have a chance to deal with them. He got out the scrap of cloth, and took another deep sniff, letting the wolf inside analyze in its own way. Afterwards, he sat for a long while, his face impassive. If he'd come to any conclusions, and if he happened to be surprised or intrigued by those conclusions, it wasn't written on his face.

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When Remus came downstairs finally, he shooed Harry away from the stove. "Damn it, I said that thing was dangerous. Don't you touch it again, d'you hear me?" He stomped around, readying dinner, as Harry retreated to the den to sulk. It was difficult, trying to concentrate while he was still in the throes of the worst hangover he'd had since before he'd left Hogwarts. And it wasn't as if he could ask Severus for a potion, either, because that would mean admitting that he'd wandered into Harry's bedroom in the middle of the night, completely pissed. Whatever Severus would make out of that, Remus was sure he didn't want to know. On top of that, the mystery smell kept bothering him. He was _certain_ it was familiar, and it wasn't the vetiver. Was it? He was pretty sure it was the bergamot. _Pretty_ sure. He hadn't been around it much…or had he? Somewhere buried deep inside the wolfish part of his brain, he was aware that there were layers upon subtle layers of smell, and that, not _technically_ being a canine, he was getting them mixed up in his head.

Smell was linked to memory; memory was linked to emotion. Smells brought about more vivid memories than any of the other senses. Supposedly. Why, then, did this particular mixture of scents send his mind _cartwheeling_? He knew that if you sat back and let yourself absorb the experience—enjoyed the ride, so to speak—and merely looked back on whatever had popped into your head when a certain odor was introduced, you could glean valuable information. But this one! _This _one was so muddled. All he could remember, from sniffing it, was a collage of seemingly unrelated things—a hallway at Hogwarts, a sense of fear and frustration, Harry—which was odd, but more than anything, there was a sense of Harry—and worry (but that could have come from _anything_, especially these days), and a nagging, _nagging_ feeling that this _ought_ to be easy. It was so damn _familiar._

As he set the oven to broil, he found himself worrying, as ever, about Harry. Why did the smell bring Harry to mind? The only explanation he could think of was that the smell was around Harry, and often. One of his friends? God, Remus hoped that wasn't the case. The scent didn't especially bring to mind Ron or Hermione, but smells could be such tricky things. If, for instance, the scent was a specific pheromone, and was only given off under certain circumstances…then it _wouldn't _be the smell Remus most associated with any one person—but it probably would be _just_ enough to nag at his memory, if he'd smelled it on that person before.

_Damn it! Sodding hell._ Remus glared at the caramelized onions, which, unfortunately, had turned out as onions _flambé._ He wished he could use his wand. Instead, he ran the pan under the tap, still cursing under his breath. Why the hell was everything to do with Muggles so unbelievably difficult?

"Having a spot of trouble, Lupin?" Snape's smug voice floated from the kitchen doorway. Remus stiffened, but didn't deign to turn and glare at the man. He kept on cooking as though nothing had happened. "You really ought to leave this sort of thing to Potter," the Potions Master offered. "You're bloody awful at it. Really, if you feel such an acute need to be useful, you could go and hunt the main course down, rather than fecklessly torching everything you put paws to."

Remus sighed. "Do shut up, would you, Severus?"

With a victorious smirk, the dark-haired antagonist left to join Harry in the den.

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Supper was a sullen, almost silent affair, as Harry read, Snape snapped at Harry about not getting food on books that were Hogwarts property, and Remus brooded and watched the other two wizards. It wasn't likely that Harry would spill food on his book, since he hadn't taken a single bite since the plate was set before him. He hadn't spoken a single word, either, at least to Remus. He did manage the odd sentence here and there to Snape. In any case, the boy wasn't eating anything. Neither one of them was eating. Remus made himself chew his food, even though it tasted like unwashed socks, but Harry and Snape completely ignored the meal—if you could even call it that.

"So…what are you reading, Harry?" Remus inquired, forcing himself to make polite conversation. He was good at that sort of thing; he'd been doing it for years. However, he'd never come across anyone quite so infuriatingly stubborn as Harry—not even Snape could match the boy, when Harry was in full moping mode.

"Nothing," Harry replied, never lowering the book for a moment.

Remus gritted his teeth. He could _not_ allow the boy to push him away. Harry _needed_ him; why couldn't he see that? "Is it interesting?" He forced an attentive smile.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, it's really pretty interesting, I guess." He turned the page.

Well. _That _conversation had been a roaring success. Remus took a deep breath. He would just have to persevere, that was all. "Really? What's it about?"

Stubborn silence, and then a hum that could be interpreted any number of ways. "Professor Snape gave it to me," the youth mumbled resentfully. "Ask him, if you're so fascinated by it. He surely knows more about it than I do."

"I know more about _everything_ than you do," Snape tossed out offhandedly, examining his fingernails. He had an aura of amusement about him that was difficult not to begrudge. "It's all about Grindelwald and his various acts of evil. I thought the child might find it useful."

"Wow. Did he really do _that_?" Harry asked, showing off a plate depicting a woman being impaled on a very tall spike.

"Indeed." Severus nearly seemed to smile. "That was, however, one of his more compassionate ways of killing."

"Godric H. Roosevelt Gryffindor!" Remus gasped. He snatched the book away from Harry. "Don't go showing the boy things such as that!"

"_Remus_!" Harry snarled, making a grab for the book. Remus immediately stood up, holding the book above his head. "What—you—I—you _idiot!_ I _need_ that book! I _need_ to know things like that. Don't you _get_ it? Do you think Voldemort'll go, 'Ah, I won't do _that_ to him, then, seeing as how he'd never expect it!' Get a _grip_." Remus was frowning and shaking his head, and Harry could have stomped his foot in frustration. "This isn't some _game_, you idiot! This is my _life_! It's going to be my _death_, if you keep mollycoddling me like this. Please, Remus. Give it back. These are things I need to know, even if they aren't very pleasant."

Remus's jaw was clenched. This was so contradictory of what he wanted for the boy, so wrong and upsetting. He wanted Harry _safe_. He wanted Harry innocent. He wanted to preserve Harry the way he was now, and let no one damage his radiance any more than Remus himself already had.

"The boy has a point, you know," Snape remarked from somewhere outside their little world, his voice no more than a gnat's buzz somewhere in the distance.

Remus was shaking. He lowered the book, and Harry reached for it. "No, Harry," he said as gently as he could. "It is up to me to decide what's best for you. I don't think horror stories fall into that category at all. I'm sorry. Maybe—maybe when you're older—"

"I WON'T LIVE TO _BE_ OLDER, AT THIS RATE" Harry screamed at him, tears of anger welling up in his eyes. "You are so STUPID, d'you realize that?" He was shaking with rage, and seemed to be having trouble drawing breath. "I don't—I can't—you just. I. I hate you. Do you know that? _I hate you._" He turned, running blindly from the room, as Remus stared after him, devastated.

After a long, tense silence, a loud slapping sound shocked Remus out of his distress. He turned to stare at Snape, uncomprehending, as the man's twisted smile greeted him warmly. Remus hated Severus more than he had in all their years of knowing one another, as the Potions Master continued to stand, bestowing upon the werewolf his shatteringly loud applause.

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The next day, Harry refused to come out of his room. Remus pleaded, pounded, and pulled rank, but the boy wouldn't budge. When Remus picked the lock and muscled his way in, Harry threw a shoe at his head, and the werewolf retreated, hurt and furious. It wasn't until evening, when Snape glided into the youth's territory, warded off the projectile alarm clock headed his way with a cursory shield spell, and spoke with the boy quietly for more than an hour that Harry finally condescended to rejoin the rest of the world. He still refused to speak to Remus, though.

Remus was torn. He had powerful feelings for Harry, and would do almost anything for the boy, but the whole situation was twisting his insides into knots. On the other hand, Harry was behaving like a spoiled diva and thoroughly deserved to be flipped over the man's knee and spanked senseless, and Remus would be more than happy to do it, if only Snape weren't around. He really was getting quite tired of the child's theatrics. Of course, it never occurred to him that any of this was his fault.

After skipping the evening meal, Harry followed Snape into the den for his lesson, pulling the door closed behind him quickly in order to cut off Remus's admonition to 'be careful.' Breathing heavily, he threw himself into a chair and stared at the fire, grinding his teeth. "I don't know how good I'm going to be at this tonight," he warned his teacher. "I'm royally mad at him, and I don't think I can clear my mind enough to make it work."

"Which is why you're simply going to have to try harder, you short-sighted reprobate. This is _exactly_ the sort of thing the Dark Lord will try to use against you!" Severus snapped, teeth bared. "You _must_ stop acting like such a _child_ about all of this! You do not have the right to indulge in it! Now get up. And clear that stupid head of yours; I do not see why you have any difficulty emptying it on demand, when that is its natural state in any case. Now. _Legilimens!_"

With a growl, Harry stood and tried to defend himself. He was only partially successful. Suddenly he was seeping in memories; Dudley's fifth birthday, when he and his friends seemed to have Aunt Petunia's tacit permission to play 'Pin the Tail on the Harry'…playing a game of wizard's chess at Christmas with Ron…Remus's face, hovering above his own… "No!" he yelled, giving a mighty push with his mind, and the room came back into focus. He was on the floor. He stared at Snape, who seemed neither impressed nor interested. Harry tried to recall if that had been a particularly bad memory to show off. Had they been in bed together? Must've been. Was Remus's face betraying the passion they felt for one another? Harry couldn't remember; the glimpse had been too fleeting. He hoped fervently that Snape hadn't thought anything of it.

"Pathetic, Mister Potter. And I'd actually begun to believe you capable of making humble amounts of horribly retarded progress. Cease your emotional wallowing this instant. Your disgusting sentimentality is making you more inept than ever. Ready yourself Get up."

"I'm not sentimental," Harry grumbled. "I'm just _angry_."

"Stupid boy. The werewolf would not be capable of making you angry if his opinion did not matter to you. Leave off caring about him and what he thinks, and you will have no reason to be angry. What did I just say, you miserable fool? Get _up_!"

Harry rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy of his teacher, who plundered his thoughts more brutally in response, though he found nothing especially damning.

After several rounds of invading Harry's head, Snape gave up in disgust. "Well, it is apparent that myriad inanimate objects have more natural talent at Occlumency than yourself; I'm giving up for the evening. Here," he added, thrusting something square at the boy.

"What's this?" Harry asked, squinting suspiciously. Anything coming from Snape was likely to be poisoned, cursed, or at the very least, extremely insulting. He turned the book in his hands and read the title; Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Horrible Dark Lords and Their Various Atrocities, But Were Afraid to Ask. His lips quirked upward. "What's this for, then?"

"Potter, do tell me you're not an _utter_ twit. It's what people of some erudition call a book. On Dark Lords. And what they do. Have I spelled it out simply enough for you? Your histrionics on how you could not be expected to face an enemy without knowing his possible methods persuaded me to borrow this from the library. Restricted section, since I'm sure that would be enough to make you salivate over it. Or were all of your melodramatic gestures a mere act?"

Harry blinked owlishly up at the man. "What? No. No! I want it, it's just…" He stared at the cover, thinking quickly. Remus wouldn't be happy about this—not happy at _all_. Snape was gathering his cloak, readying himself to return to Hogwarts for a meeting. Harry tilted his head, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You're trying to put me in the middle, aren't you?" he asked the Potions Master shrewdly. "You like to—I don't know—sow dissent and all that. You think it's funny when Remus and I fight. That's really tasteless, Snape."

"Professor Snape," Severus replied blandly. "And I don't have the vaguest idea of what you're on about. If you don't wish to fight with him, then don't fight with him. All you have to do is keep your big, clumsy mouth shut, for once. And I wish you luck in that. Remember to clear your mind before sleep, you troublesome jackass. I don't know why I bother reminding you; you never listen to anything I say at any rate." With a rather more smug than usual smirk, Snape flooed back to Hogwarts, leaving Harry clutching an enormous, violent tome.

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Harry decided _not_ to tell Remus about the text. After all, that would only cause a fight, and that was what Snape'd been hoping for. This way, maybe he could get an idea of what he was facing, and still avoid screwing up his relationship with the werewolf even worse. If that were even possible, by this point.

Remus was spending a lot of time out on the front porch, looking haggard and upset. Harry was avoiding him, but the man seemed to be purposely staying out of his way, in any case, so what did it matter? Sometimes Harry did have a pang of guilt, knowing that Remus was under a lot of stress, but every time he passed by the kitchen and saw the wards the werewolf had nagged Snape into putting up, Harry hardened his heart once more. This was _ridiculous_. It was a perfectly ordinary _oven_, not Attila the Hun.

One night, Harry had difficulty getting an exceptionally gory passage from Snape's book out of his head, found himself tossing and turning long into the night. Usually by this time he was dead tired, from having to repel Snape from his mind with nothing more than will, since he couldn't use magic. Tonight, however, Harry couldn't help but be restless…Blood. That was what it always came down to. Either it was pure or it was not. And there was always so much of it, when one man decided he wanted more power. He didn't even have to lift a finger—he sent other people out to do his work, and take the risks. And so it was them that paid, them and those that couldn't withstand them. And the people fighting against him got angry, and fought back, or nursed resentments—cursed him and his followers, and spat after saying their names…and their children learned to hate, just like that. And the bitterness spread. If someone looked like one of _them_, acted like one of _them_; was suspected of _knowing _any of _them_, well—best to yank the weed out by the root. Don't want that sort of thing spreading, after all. So he was getting them to kill each other, too. God, it was scary. And the descriptions of what they did to each other! Supposedly sane, common people! It was hard to believe but…Harry reckoned it only took one rock, because that would be followed by another rock, and another, and another…

He had feverish dreams, where being harsh meant being safe, and being kind meant suspicion, and being different meant death. God, Remus was different. They'd have killed Remus. And so the dreams morphed into dreams of his werewolf, taken and chained and tortured with silver, or tossed onto a raging pyre, or stolen away somewhere cold and lonely…so lonely…

Harry woke with a start, and rolled over to see the Muggle clock read almost four in the morning. Remus was all right, though, Harry was sure. Nearly sure. Part of him wanted to check, but it would look odd to go knocking on his door at this hour, and besides, Harry was still mad. Still, that didn't mean he didn't _care _about Remus… Harry stared at his ceiling, or would have if there'd been enough light. He didn't just _care_ about Remus, and he didn't just _fancy_ the man, either, although he was accustomed to thinking about it that way. _A crush_, he'd so often told himself. _I have a crush on Remus Lupin._ But it wasn't merely a crush, and _couldn't_ be, because they were mated now. That automatically meant something more, didn't it? Or did it? He thought very hard about it, determined to turn his thoughts from the death and terror in his dreams. He had _very _strong feelings for Remus, but he wasn't sure what that meant. Was it the bond, twisting his emotions to its purpose? If that were the case, then Remus would likely feel the same way, and he certainly wasn't acting like it, lately. That could mean that Harry's feelings stemmed from something else, and were entirely his own…

Remus was having difficulty sleeping, as well. Harry wasn't speaking to him, and he was trying to give the boy his space, but…the need could not be erased. He stalked the youth through the halls and in the garden, moving so carefully and sinuously that Harry was completely unaware of the man's presence. He watched as Harry sat in the den, reading another one of Snape's loathsome texts. His eyes followed every insignificant movement; a page slowly being flipped, a tongue running across a lip, a hand brushing back an errant lock of hair. Remus was going mad. The slavering wolf within was directly at odds with his logical consciousness. He wanted the boy—not just in bed, he had to admit, but to hold and to share with and to indulge—but he also knew that everything had suddenly become very complicated, and great discretion was imperative.

He couldn't let anything happen to Harry. He promised himself that this was the reason he shadowed the boy, and it had nothing whatever to do with the wolf's unslaked lust for its mate. Being banished from Harry's company was leading to all kinds of problems for Remus, only one of which had anything to do with the kinds of activities that eventually led to orgasm. For one thing, it was so much easier to castigate himself about the situation when Harry wasn't actively trying to distract him. He was spending more and more time examining and re-examining his actions, his inappropriate desires, and his often conflicting role as Harry's guardian.

Sometimes at night, he could see Sirius in his mind's eye, shaking his head and arguing passionately that Remus ought to find the nearest tower and throw himself off, since it was the only honorable thing to do after having deflowered the boy. Other times, he saw James's horrified face, shaking his head, eyes pleading to know how Remus could abuse his trust so badly. Strangely, the least-upsetting image was Lily, her green eyes flashing, her sharp movements and angry demands only serving to bolster Remus's faltering sense of justification. _Lily,_ he would think, closing his eyes to focus on hers, _you're wrong. I would never hurt him. And he's NOT yours anymore—he's mine. Can you understand that? He's mine! He came to me, not the other way around. It was wrong of me to have let it happen, but that's beyond help, now. Now we must learn to live with it. If we can._ But that, of course, was when his own oft ignored conscience rose up to do battle with him. Because he knew, deep down, that he _could_ give Harry up, if he had to. He _could_ let the boy go, and build a life of his own. He simply didn't want to. He simply…didn't want to.

The last night they would be staying in the cottage, Harry drew Remus aside. "This paranoia concerning kitchen appliances has got to stop," he informed the man seriously. "I know you care about me, and that you're trying to help, and I appreciate that, but for God's sake, don't do this. Don't lock me away like a princess in a tower, afraid of all the little things that might happen to me. It's unreasonable. This equipment is not unfamiliar to me," he continued, after a pause and a deep breath. "I was raised by Muggles. They made me do a lot of the cooking. I would like to contribute to…you know, making this whole ordeal easier on us all. This is not a battle of wills, Remus. I mean it. I've been doing a lot of thinking, about the…about the whole werewolf thing. About the way you are, and the way I am, and about the reasons we might be this way. You have this…dominance thing going. I can understand that. Hell, I've even been _asking_ for that, and in no uncertain terms, so I've no right to complain about it now." Harry shut his eyes for a few moments. This was very difficult. He was naturally very stubborn, and Remus was not. Or hadn't been, up until the mating. Now things had changed between them, and Harry wasn't always sure he liked it. It was frightening, letting someone have that kind of power and control over him. On the other hand, if it was going to be anyone, he would prefer it to be Remus…

It just would have been so much easier, if overt submission never entered into it in any way. "If you don't want me in the kitchen, I will accept that," he told the man through gritted teeth. This had better work, or he was going to be very unhappy about having said such a thing. "But I'm asking you, Remus, will you _please_ let me make dinner tonight? You can supervise, even, if you like." He snapped his mouth shut, biting off the rest of what he wanted to say, which ranged from 'You damn stubborn werewolf, stop treating me like a five-year-old,' to 'I promise I won't accidentally blow myself up with the oven before Voldemort can get to me.'

Remus stared at the boy, astonished. That was…decidedly mature of Harry. If Remus didn't agree to the compromise, he'd seem like an obstinate bully. Harry's suggestion had veritably wiped all of the werewolf's arguments away. Reluctantly, he nodded. "I…all right. I can…just watch. I just don't want anything to happen to you," he reiterated, trying desperately to explain his persistence to the boy.

Harry gave him a rather cynical half smile, effectively stopping him saying anything more. Remus felt his stomach clench in guilt as he watched Harry move about the kitchen, getting out the things he'd be using for dinner. _Yes, you don't want anything to happen to him,_ his conscience repeated sarcastically. _You just want to be the alpha. You just want to be the dominant one. It isn't about his safety at all, is it? You've just been letting the wolf run your mouth, haven't you?_ Remus flushed at the realization his motives might not be as pure as he'd assured himself. Really, it was just an oven. Harry'd seen plenty of them, he was sure. "You're beautiful when you're absorbed in something like this," he suddenly blurted, and Harry glanced up from the cookbook, surprise written on his face. A slight pink crept across the youth's cheekbones, and he saw Harry carefully hold back a smile before replying.

"Well, perhaps you ought to let me do this more often, then." With a wry twist of his mouth, Harry looked back down at the book.

After a while, Remus offered, "Anything I can do to help?"

Harry looked round. "Well…you could dice the vegetables," he proposed, thinking it better to give Remus a 'dangerous' task he wouldn't want Harry doing on his own. He was a little confused when Remus seemed to smile gratefully, taking the vegetables over to the chopping board.

They'd been working for sometime, chatting companionably, when the Potions Master appeared and interrupted. "Ah…" the man sighed from the doorway. "Back to playing happy families and making obeisance to that…Muggle woman. What was her name? Julia someone or other. Child. Making obeisance to Julia Child now, are we? How very sweet. So. Harry. How are you getting on with the book I lent you?"

Harry clenched his teeth. Why was it that the man could not _stand_ to see anyone else happy, even for a moment? Why did he always do his best to rip other peoples' pleasure to shreds? Why was it that he seemed to derive amusement from trying to turn Harry and Remus against each other? Not looking up, Harry grated out, "Shut up, Snape," and was startled to realize that Remus's lips had echoed his own words, albeit much more quietly.

"Don't you speak to me like that, Mister Potter," Snape began. "Lupin may have chosen to accept whatever vitriol and disrespect you give him; he has no choice, after all. It is very difficult to make friends when you are likely, at some point, to maul them. I have to assume that's the reason he rolls over for you at every turn, at any rate. I, on the other hand, am not prepared to—"

"Severus, that is enough," Remus told him in a dangerous voice.

"Indeed?" Snape did not look impressed. He was leaning against the doorframe, one brow arched, eyes glittering in an entirely unpleasant way. Harry jerked his eyes back to his preparations, swallowing uncomfortably. Did Snape suspect something? How could he not, with the way Harry and Remus had behaved around each other lately?

"Don't annoy me," the werewolf muttered to the man, although he now sounded more tired than intimidating.

Snape ignored him completely, walking up to Harry and stopping by his elbow. "Rest assured, Mister Potter, that your insolence towards me will not go unpunished when term starts," he said in a cold, menacing voice.

Remus grabbed the man's arm and spun him around. "Are you _threatening_ the boy?" he demanded.

The Potions Master tried to jerk his arm away, his face filled with outrage. "It is obvious that you have no control whatever over Mister Potter, and you seem to be making the serious mistake of letting the child—"

"Whatever mistakes I make are not yours to compensate," Remus growled. He glanced at Harry, who was ignoring the scene with fine disdain—something he probably learned from Snape, Remus realized with some consternation. Letting a breath escape his teeth in a long hiss, he kept hold of the man's arm and dragged him, protesting, from the room. Remus didn't know if he'd be allowed to stay near Harry throughout the school year, but he damn well intended that the boy be treated civilly whether he was nearby or not—and it was time Severus had that explained to him.

Harry watched his teacher be hauled from the room, snarling acidic contempt all the way. He'd strongly considered speaking up, but he was really quite weary of fighting all the time, and Remus was…rather sweet, when he was being protective. He listened to the voices rising in anger in the hallway, and a loud thump that nearly made him drop his spoon. Casually stirring the broth, he ignored the scuffle. Smirking, he tasted his creation, deciding it needed a bit more tarragon. He resolutely kept to his task, unheeding of any of the noises coming from outside the room. _After_ _all_, he reasoned, _if I'm going to let Remus be the dominant partner, then I ought to get SOME kind of benefit from it…_

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By the time the three of them sat down together to eat, a grudging peace had been restored. Snape was trying to hide the relish with which he devoured his meal, and did his best to completely ignore Remus at the same time. "You might have left off a bit more of this gravy," he complained to Harry, scraping some of it off. "The only people who need to drown their meat are the ones that haven't cooked it correctly." He gave a sneer in Remus's direction, but the werewolf did not rise to the bait.

"I like the gravy," Harry replied, shrugging. He had tactfully refrained from saying anything about Snape's eye, which might have to remain black until he went back to Hogwarts for the night and could have it magically healed. It wasn't so much magic that it would draw the Death Eaters to them; it was only that Remus had confiscated the man's wand, with the promise that he wasn't getting it back until Snape agreed to behave with some semblance of courtesy. Harry overheard this discussion with amusement, and concluded that this was the equivalent of a lifetime sentence of wandlessness, but the man shocked him by attempting to be somewhat polite, in the hopes of getting it returned quickly. Harry suspected this had something to do with Remus having hidden the floo powder, and that as soon as the Potions Master was restored to either his wand or his method of communication with the Headmaster, he would revert to his normal, belligerent self, but at least it made for a passable meal.

After dinner, Snape cornered the werewolf in the den, and requested his wand in a tight voice. Remus barely flicked a glance at him before going back to his evening paper, heaving a great sigh and—sounding for all the world like a particularly old-fashioned father whose son has requested the car keys—asked, "Are you going to behave towards Harry with a modicum of respect?"

Harry could hear Snape's teeth grinding. "I will attempt to restrain myself from damaging the boy's fragile psyche, so long as he keeps his impertinent tongue still in my presence."

Remus flicked to the next page. "Not good enough," he pronounced.

"Why—you—" The Potions Master was almost incoherent with ire, and Harry knew that he would be trying to take the wand by force, if Remus were not endowed with werewolf strength. Taking a noisy breath through his nose, Snape appeared to master himself. "Surely you realize, Lupin, that if I do not appear at Hogwarts very shortly, the Headmaster will undoubtedly send someone after me. Then where will you be?"

"Mmm," Remus responded noncommittally. "That should be embarrassing for you. Whatever would the Order think; Severus Snape, the great spy, who cannot even keep hold of his wand?"

Snape's sallow cheeks coloured just a little. "Give it _back_, damn it! You've no right!"

"And _you've_ no right to persecute Harry for every injustice James perpetuated on you!" Remus snarled, standing. "All you have to do is let go an old, overripe grudge. Let Harry alone—that's all I'm asking."

"Fine! Fine! I'll leave him be, then. Satisfied?" Snape's voice rose a pitch. "Now _hand me my wand_!"

Remus looked at him a long, doubtful moment, before finally handing over the slender wooden object. Harry held his breath, certain that Snape would hex the werewolf into oblivion, but the man merely snatched it back, glaring. After a moment, he spoke. "And the floo powder?"

"Under my bed," Remus informed him coolly, and Snape waved his wand to retrieve it.

Just before Snape disappeared into the fire, he told them with great resent, "I shall be arriving to help pack early tomorrow morning. We will be expected at the Weasleys' right around noon. I'll expect you both up and ready to leave upon my appearance. Is that understood?" He looked self-righteously over his shoulder, the proud and vicious Potions Master once more.

"That will be fine," Remus agreed softly, and Harry nodded assent. With a bitter jerk of his head, Snape disappeared into the fireplace, leaving the pair alone for the night.

Harry turned to Remus, who seemed uncertain and awkward. Remus cleared his throat and sat down, picking up his paper, although Harry noticed by the way the pages shivered that the man wasn't as comfortable with the boy's presence as he pretended. "So. I suppose you'll have plans to read tonight?" the man asked nonchalantly, and Harry smiled.

He perched on the armrest, looking down at his mate. "Thank you for letting me fix dinner," he told Remus quietly. "I didn't make a catastrophe out of it, you might have noticed." He noted that the man's ears turned rather red.

"Yes. Well. Thank you for fixing supper," the werewolf replied in a stiff voice, and Harry felt the anger rise up in his throat, choking him.

After all that, he STILL can't see how perfectly innocuous it is? He still can't admit that I'm capable of looking after myself?

Remus sighed and lowered his paper. "Harry…I'm sorry if I seemed unreasonable. It wasn't my intent to alienate you, or to imply that you were a helpless child. I merely meant to keep you safe…sometimes I'm…well. I'm not as well versed in all things Muggle as you are, and I don't trust them. Sirius always thought Muggle objects were a great laugh and…it led to the occasional mishap. It just…frightens me when you're messing about with something that I don't understand. I suppose the problem isn't on your end, but mine…all the same, I'd still appreciate it if you'd humor me in this."

He looked up seriously, and Harry realized he was wearing his reading spectacles, which Harry found very sexy. The youth had to swallow before answering. He'd…sort of won. He'd gotten his way, and Remus was treating him with more respect—explaining things rather than making unrealistic demands. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders. "I think I see," he said solemnly. He reached a tentative hand out to caress the man's face, and Remus's eyes fluttered shut. "But really, Remus…in the future, could we try discussing things before you order me about like a drill sergeant? It's disconcerting, and kind of…you know…insulting. Every time I turn around, I find myself fighting for or against something…it would be awfully nice if I didn't have to fight you, too. I'm willing to listen to you, if you're reasonable and ready to make concessions now and again. I just want a little dignity, too, you know. Especially when there are other people around. It's hard enough to get Snape to treat me with anything like respect, without you laying into me, too."

Remus smiled a little ruefully. "I hadn't considered that," he admitted. "I could see you were upset with me, but I thought it all stemmed from disliking someone having that kind of authority over you. Oh, Harry. I apologize, and I'm willing to…well, I can't promise never to order you about, but I _will_ agree to keep the arguments behind closed doors, if it would help."

Harry nodded. "Just try to see things from my point of view, is all. And I'll try not to throw any more fits, and never in public, but…if you treat me like a child, it's hard not to act like one." He leaned over a little, resting his cheek on Remus's head.

Remus put an arm around the boy and pulled him slowly into his lap. "Is this all right?" he whispered anxiously. He relaxed a bit when Harry nodded against his chest. "I promise to modulate the way I phrase things in the future," he proposed, and Harry looked at him in confusion. "I mean I'll try not to talk down to you," he amended. "I won't simply forbid you to do something without discussing it first."

Harry smiled, relieved. That was exactly what he'd been wanting. "Thank you," he said vehemently. "You don't know how much that means to me." He wrapped his arms around his wolf's neck and kissed him firmly. Remus seemed to pull away, and Harry blinked at him, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Harry…" Remus bit his lip, pulling his glasses of and setting them aside. "Perhaps we oughtn't…er…perhaps we should back off a little bit. You'll find, as you grow older, that you want more and more of your own space, and I want you to have the freedom—"

"Remus," Harry interrupted, "that isn't what I meant—"

"I know you didn't. I've simply come to the realization that what we've been doing might be very harmful to you, in the long run. Harry, you know your parents would not have approved of this, and I can't say I have any effective argument." He pinched the bridge of his nose, missing the scowl Harry shot at him.

"Oh God, you've been _thinking_ on it, haven't you? I should have known not to leave you alone long enough to let you start beating yourself up about it. It was almost inevitable. Look, Remus—"

"No, Harry. You look; your father would kick me round the countryside if he were alive, and I'd deserve it. Sirius would barbeque both of us. Your mother would never forgive me. I don't think—"

"You think _too much_, actually," Harry responded. "And I don't care what they would have thought, because we'll never really know. They're _dead_, Remus. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. And…" he trailed off, wrinkling his nose, trying to form a decent argument. "You do yourself an injustice, by thinking about what they would say," he finally put forth. "You can't defend yourself against that, because you're really only arguing with yourself. So tell me that _you_ don't want to do this, if that's the case, but don't fob off the responsibility onto your dead friends. Whatever they might have thought doesn't enter into it, because things have changed. Do you think any of them could have foreseen what happened in that dungeon? I want you, Remus. I need you. Shouldn't _I_ be the one whose opinion counts?" He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the werewolf's, and looked unhappily into his eyes.

Remus held his breath for a long moment. "I can't tell you that I don't want this, because that would be a lie. But that doesn't mean that I think it's right."

Harry kissed him persuasively. "Don't say that," the boy begged. "It _is_ right. It's the only thing in my life that's _ever_ felt so right."

Remus closed his eyes, allowing the questing tongue entrance for a few delicious moments. "I don't know if it's right or wrong anymore," he admitted, defeated. "But I want it all the same. God help me, I want it still."

Harry frowned before attacking the man's lips with renewed vigor. "You don't have to make it sound as though I'm corrupting you," he told Remus crossly.

A ghost of a smile traversed the man's face. "I'm afraid _I'm_ the one corrupting _you_, which was rather my point," he said, then moaned as Harry's hand slipped down, cupping the bulge in his trousers.

"Well, if that's the case," Harry replied with an impish smile, "I'd be more than happy to switch roles with you for the night. He undid the top button on the man's pants, and then another. He loved the way Remus's breath hitched, and his hands clutched the armrests desperately. Such a model of restraint. Still, Harry had seen him lose said restraint, and enjoyed watching that even more, so he set about making it happen again.

Remus's head fell back against the seat, and he whimpered piteously. Harry gave him an evil grin before kissing the tip of the man's nose, then licking it, then nibbling it gently. "Tell me you missed me," the boy teased. He began to stroke Remus slowly, and the man's eyes narrowed with frightening intensity.

"I missed you?" he panted in Harry's ear. "You're the one who can't seem to keep your hands off of me." Harry's pace quickened, and Remus's hands went of their own accord to the back of Harry's head, and he tugged the youth forward, crushing their lips together.

Harry finally escaped Remus's authoritative mouth long enough to gasp, "Anything for lubricant?"

"Nothing that I can think of offhand," Remus disclosed. "Though I'm sure I could find—"

"Don't even _think_ about getting up," Harry chastised. He licked his palm judiciously, and Remus gaped at him. "What?" Harry growled, seeing the nonplussed look on his lover's face. "It'll be fine. It's been three days, and that's _much_ too long to go without having you a part of me."

Remus felt his eyes fall shut, and he bit back a wild cry. _Three days._ He wanted to tell Harry that if three days seemed endless, he ought to count himself lucky, but Remus held his tongue. And then Harry leaned forward and held it, as well. It had felt like much more than three days to him too, so he couldn't bring himself to blame his lover. Harry rocked his hips, and they groaned in unison. Remus watched the boy as he bit his lip in concentration, his eyes half shut, lost in sensation. This was the most control he had ever given Harry, and the first time the boy had taken this kind of initiative, and Remus found himself enjoying the experience very much.

Since he was letting Harry do most of the work, Remus stopped himself from feeling useless by letting his mouth go, for once, and watched Harry's face as the words washed over him. "Merlin, you're so beautiful. Do you even know how beautiful you are?" he whispered, and felt the youth shudder extravagantly. "You've no idea how good it feels, buried in your silken heat…you've got the sweetest, smoothest, tightest—"

"—_God_, Remus," Harry interrupted, his voice choked. His hips were gyrating with abandon now, and Remus gripped them, took them under his control, and let his hands adjust their rhythm.

"Just slow down," he told his lover hoarsely. "Spread your legs wider—_yes_, that's it," he grunted, as Harry threw first one leg, then the other over the arms of the chair, giving control back to Remus in the notion the older man could make this last longer. "Oh, _Harry_…" Remus wasn't keeping control any better than Harry had, and his hands were setting a faster and faster pace, and Harry undulated fiercely, teeth clenched, sweat pouring down his body as he reveled in the hedonistic pleasure of it all.

Harry was beginning to feel desperate, unable to articulate the loss of closeness he'd felt the past days, even though it had been by his choice. "Missed you," he settled on panting, digging his fingers into Lupin's hair. "Want you. Need you. You. Drive me. Fucking crazy. You know that?"

Remus chuckled low in his throat, and pulled his mate forward into another steamy kiss. Harry's low wail was sucked into his lover's mouth, and the boy's hips sped up frantically, never breaking the kiss. Just as the pressure was becoming unbearable for Remus, he felt the boy constrict and shudder. Remus gasped and held Harry tighter, following him up the dizzy spiral.

Harry's hands were clenched painfully in his hair, and Remus pulled his tongue out of the youth's mouth enough to ask Harry to loosen his grip. Harry complied, letting his fingers trail down the back of Remus's neck, and dropping his head forward to lean on the man's shoulder. Harry heaved a great, shuddering sigh. "You know, the sex is mind blowing, but the lack of communication is kind of…not so great," he said, yawning.

Remus had to laugh. "Then I guess that's something we have to work on, isn't it, Green Eyes?" He smiled, stroking Harry's back, and stood to carry his mate into the bathroom. "We'll just have to make an effort, that's all. We'll just have to make a bit of an effort."

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Thanks to: takari4ever7, Jen(),sunnysparkles, Immortal Memories, Read300300, Dracula5555, HecateDeMort, charlie-potter1, Queen of the Slash (and another!) 

Somnia Lustre: I love the werewolf plot device, too. I realized that Canon!Harry isn't very submissive, so I decided to inject mine with a bit of 'oomph' to add to the complications in their relationship.

Poicale: I've tried to keep an even amount of responsibility with both of them for the whole problem. That way, no one goes; 'That Remus is being such an ass! This is all his fault!' It seems more realistic this way. Remus was forced to be a bit more 'hands off'…of Harry, that is, in this chapter, but the next one should be fun and dirty.

Jemma Blackwell: If I can find the time, I'll make a list. A lot of my favorite authors aren't on FF, though, but PSA or wishforthemoon or that type of thing.

Eric2: I'd wanted to do a scene with Snape in a car since I wrote TMP…this entire chapter was merely an excuse for him to yell, 'DO YOU WANT ME TO PULL THIS CAR OVER?' Which, I think, was necessary for my continued existence.

Tigris T Draconis: If Voldemort _does_ sing, what do you suppose he prefers? I've had several suggestions of Brittany Spears so far, but I could also see him doing Christopher Cross, or even Toby Keith. Seriously evil.

Quills 'N Ink: I'm trying to stay on top of it, but sometimes time just gets away from me.

E-Vector as always: I think Snape sort of took over. I hadn't INTENDED for him to be a main character, but…

Kireina1: high five back The car was an absolute necessity. I always wanted to do a car scene, and I can just picture Remus being into 'lite rock' from the 70s.

Katte: Yeah, Harry had to use the only weapon he knew would work against a man; the withholding of sexual favors…but he means well, really.

Aleclovemax: I haven't got the authors' permission to do links…ShadowPhoenix and Adele Sparks are on FF, a few writers are on PSA (glassesreflect dot net) and some at the wishforthemoon site on live journal.

HellPhoenixSirius: If Remus sang Elton John and Willie Nelson at me deliberately, I'd want to inflict bodily harm on him, too. Snape had my sympathy last chapter. And a black eye in this one. I do put him through hell, don't I?

Ayame Kyoko: Ah ha! You knew the song! I listened to it and thought, _Aw. It's so cute. And appropriate. Have to use it!_ Of course, it would be one of those things Snape would find irritating…

Sweet Mercy: The last one was more fun, so this one could be more angst. Hopefully next will be a good mix of both. Depends on my mood. The one liners are easy, though—it's the _plot_ that kills me.

goody2sho: I tried to give good reasons to feel irritated with both of them. If at any point you wanted to smack them upside the head, I've accomplished what I set out to do. I went with 'Tears on my Pillow,' because Snape would _never_ hum something cheerful—even if he were in a really good mood. Cynical Snape must be morose at all times.

silver-sunn101: I'm glad you're over your writer's block! I've had a bit of it myself, recently. That's one of the reasons this chapter took so long. Anyway, I have Harry going back and forth between maturity and immaturity, and Remus trying to ignore his own selfishness, which is probably a bit OOC for him, but oh, well. Hopefully my next chapter will write itself. Cheers!


	9. Death Eaters at Play

TITLE: Research and Development Part IX: Death Eaters at Play

AUTHOR: 

PAIRING: Remus/Harry

RATING: PG

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? Time for the big action sequence. Come on, there had to be _one_. When the trio is attacked by Death Eaters, who is it that falls, and will the other two be able to pull together enough to rescue him?

CATEGORY: (Drama / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: The Sanguinary ShadowPhoenix, the Altruistic Adele Sparks

NOTES: I am now posting to my live journal before everywhere else, since my web page has begun eating all new entries. Yes, yes it has. Plus, there are other stories kept there, including my fledgling ficlet Snarry, Somnophilia Severus, if any of you are inclined to check it out. (P.S.—my live journal is having problems, too. Don't you envy my very existence?) As an aside, this is the next to last chapter, if I play my cards right.

Part Nine: Death Eaters at Play

As they drove through the sleepy countryside, watching the golden fields and mossy green hills go past, Remus questioned Snape about everything that had recently happened with Voldemort, as Harry sprawled in the back of the Mini, dozing. "Have you _no_ idea as to the identity of the Death Eater ordered to shadow us?" he asked the Potions Master, who snorted humourlessly.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. So much for your vaunted olfactory acuity. The Dark Lord has been keeping the identity of your attacker close. He is not the most trusting of men."

"Gee, I wonder why," Remus replied dryly, thinking that if Snape and Lucius Malfoy were supposedly _his_ supporters, he'd be a bit paranoid, too. Slytherins.

"And _you_ managed nothing of worth since I gave you the object?"

"I…have a few ideas," Remus told him defensively. "Haven't you come up with anything at all?" he quickly said, returning the ball to Severus's court.

The Potions Master leaned his head back on his seat for a moment, shutting his eyes. "I don't believe it was Goyle," he said in a contemplative voice, "because we _saw_ the Death Eater that attacked Grimmauld Place, and he wasn't shaped like an overweight zeppelin in a black robe. I only saw him for a split second before having to rescue Potter from his own idiocy once again, though; have _you_ no useful impressions of the attacker?"

Remus frowned, thinking. "Not many. The scent on the silk is familiar, so it's unlikely to be someone I haven't seen in many years. That would rule out Crabbe and Goyle on principle, anyhow. That also makes me doubt it was Nott, because I was rarely around him in school and certainly haven't seen much of him since then…but _blast_ it! The same could be said for nearly all of them!"

"I don't think it was Bellatrix, either," a not-at-all-sleepy-sounding voice piped up from the backseat.

Snape gave Remus a reproachful look, which Remus ignored. He cleared his throat and said, "Why is that, Harry?"

Harry thought this over a while. "Too quiet," he finally pronounced. "Too still. I only saw her that one time, but she was always talking and laughing. I don't think she's all there, you know? And this one seemed…a little taller. More the right height for a male than a female."

"This is true," Remus replied speculatively. "And the scents on the cloth were masculine scents. At the same time, what better way to throw us off their trail than to do something like that? But…I barely knew Bellatrix, and my instincts tell me that this is definitely someone I know."

Snape gave a grunt. "It's true that the woman has an unfortunate tendency to…_vocalize_ what she's about."

"And we were in a _gay _bar when we were followed back to the hotel!" Harry added triumphantly. "We would've _noticed_ any women hanging about then, wouldn't we?"

Remus's stomach gave a frightened lurch. "You were _what_?" Snape asked slowly, turning to face the boy. "When was this, exactly?" he added, glancing shrewdly at Lupin.

"Ngnh," Remus rejoined. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "We—Mundungus—chose—meeting place," he croaked, looking at the road and _only_ the road. "Didn't. Choose."

"That idiot," the Potions Master griped. "While I admit that there is some merit to having someone in the Order with connections to the seething contamination that _is_ the underworld, surely they could have found someone who was not, in fact, a seething contamination himself?"

Remus muttered something incoherent, glancing in the rearview mirror—not actually checking for anything, but trying to look busy—all the while feeling relieved all the way to his toes. They _had_ to be more careful. It was becoming apparent that, one way or another, they were going to get caught. What the hell would happen, then? Would they take Harry away from him? They couldn't kill Remus; that would turn Harry, as his mate, mad with grief.

Mired deep in the twisting river of his thoughts, Remus almost did not register the first time the car rocked. It wasn't until Snape screamed, "Accelerate!" and drew his wand did the werewolf realize they were under attack. He slammed his foot down on the pedal, but even as the car began to jolt forward, another blast hit their rear end, and they were sent spinning out of control.

He heard Harry shout, and punched the brakes, fighting the wheel. A wave of red light washed over them, and Severus bellowed a countercurse, brandishing his wand out the window. With a sickening screech of metal, the Mini's frame began to bend. The countercurse flashed and flickered as it met the red light and successfully pushed it back.

The car trembled to a halt, now on its side, and came to rest in a ditch. Snape undid his belt and was out the window in a moment, shooting off hexes and curses left and right. Remus grappled with his seatbelt for a moment, finally giving up and using his werewolf strength to rip it off. He scrambled to turn around.

"Harry!" he cried, twisting. "Oh Merlin, please say you're all right." Harry, who had not been restrained, was slumped against the window, blood trickling from underneath his hairline. Remus gently cupped the boy's face and parted his hair, finding a jagged gash on the side of his head. "Harry, can you hear me?" He yanked out a handkerchief and pressed it to the youth's injury. Harry moaned, his eyes fluttering open. "There, oh God, so glad you're…anyway. Just a cut on the head." Remus babbled, glancing out the window. Snape was holding his position, keeping the Death Eater—or Eaters—well back. "Just a cut on the head. They always look worse than they are. I remember once when Sirius fell off his broom—Jesus, what am I saying? Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry blinked and nodded painfully. "Yeah. 'M all right. Just a bit shook up," he told the man. He reached under Remus's hand to grab the handkerchief on his own. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." A roar of rage interrupted them, and Remus looked up to see Snape tumbling onto the ground.

"Harry, I have to help him. Stay here; do you hear me? _Stay here_." The werewolf struggled through the broken window and stumbled over to the fallen Potions Master, light and noise and flashes of fire ricocheting over his head. Dropping to his hands and knees to present less of a target, Remus scuttled along as quickly as he could, snatching the man's wand off the ground.

He aimed it at Snape's leg, which was bent oddly and gushing blood, but the Potions Master snarled at him. "Don't even _think_ about it! Beastly werewolf, give me my wand!" He grabbed it away from Remus and cast a minor healing charm himself. A sound like thunder ripped past, and a heavy weight fell across Snape's body.

He looked down to see Remus collapsed on top of him, unmoving. "Bloody _hell_!" he swore, shoving the man to the side. At a popping noise, he looked up to see the arrival of another Death Eater, and then another. Casting about frantically for a place to hide, he saw a patch of tall weeds behind the car, and Apparated there, where he crumpled to the ground, his still injured leg unable to support his weight. "Blast and _damn_," he growled, panting as he gazed out from behind the weeds. The Death Eaters seemed to be congregating around Lupin's still body. One of them gave it a vicious kick, and the sound of laughter floated down the road to reach his ears.

"What can I do to help?" a hoarse whisper asked from his elbow, and Snape fought not to jump out of his skin.

"Potter!" he grimaced. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came with you, remember?" the dry retort came back instantly. "_Snape_," he said. "They're going to _kill_ him. What are we going to _do?_" Harry looked out at his lover, who was being hexed and hit and beaten to a pulp.

"I…" Snape said slowly, considering. "They haven't seen me. They don't know. But." He took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. "I cannot walk without aid, and it would seem suspicious to arrive with injury—sans explanation of having received it."

Harry's eyes were round as he watched Voldemort's followers at play. "Unless you were with me."

"What?"

"Unless you'd _captured_ me, Snape—and I'd put up a fight. They'd let us get right up close, then." The man was staring at him. "Give me your wand. Hurry up. Otherwise you'll be unmasked. Speaking of which—don't you need a mask like theirs?"

Snape's eyes darted towards the group gathered around Lupin. "I can conjure one easily enough." Against his better judgment, he waived his wand, and was immediately bedecked in a blank white mask. "What is your plan, Mister Potter?"

"You just keep one hand on my shoulder, like you're pushing me forward. I'll try to make a lot of noise—plead and cry so they'll look away from Lupin. Then I'll—for Merlin's sake, why are we talking about this? Get up, Snape, we have to get going before he's _dead_."

Either the Potions Master had taken a hex to the head as well as his leg, or hell had momentarily frozen over, because the man rose without argument, and they tottered forward. Harry began hollering and giving great, fake sobs, and the group instantaneously lost interest in the werewolf, drawn to more valuable prey.

"Let _go_ of me!" Harry shouted, dragging Snape along so that the man could barely keep up to stand. "You'll never get away with this—they'll catch you! All of you!" The Death Eaters began making excited, chattering noises, and Harry caught a few snatches of phrases like, "Inform the Lord," and "My Lord will be so pleased, we must…" but he waited patiently for them to draw near.

"_I've_ got him," he heard the Potions Master bawl out, his hand tight on Harry's shoulder. "I'm the one that captured him, and the credit shall be _mine_!" The ferocity of his voice made the others recoil for a moment before surging forward once more.

Harry waited until they were almost there, until they were reaching out to grab him, until the reek of the breath of the man in the lead of the pack struck his face, before jerking Snape's wand up and crying, "_Expecto Patronum!_" The great silver stag, looking more vigorous and more corporeal than Harry had ever seen, leapt from the tip of the wand and charged the Death Eaters. With a hue and a cry, they scattered, falling over themselves to retreat to a place of safety.

Harry yanked his professor over to Remus, falling to his knees and pulling the man down beside him. "Can you Apparate him to the Burrow?" he asked the man. "_Protego_!" he added, casting the shield over his shoulder as their enemy began to advance once more.

"Yes, but _you_ can't!" Snape yelled back, his voice nearly drowned out by whatever curse had been flung at them. "You're not of age, you don't have a license, and you don't know how!"

"I don't care, I don't care, and yes, I do!" Harry retorted. "Look, we're right near the Weasleys' now. I can make it that far; I swear it! We don't have a choice," he continued, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "You're going to have to trust me. You can't fight them in the shape you're in. Go on, take him and go!"

Snape snarled and lunged for his wand, but Harry scooted back out of reach. "You're wasting time," he told the man. "Apparating is the best you'll be able to do. Look, if nothing else, at least you'll be able to get help," he rationalized, giving the man a short, bitter smile. Remus lay beside them, unmoving.

With his face twisted in anger, the Potions Master grabbed hold of the werewolf. "Potter…" he said warningly. "If you don't make it back…if you let them capture you…I'll kill you myself, Dumbledore or no Dumbledore. Do you understand me?" A streak of ice went past his ear, and he flinched a little.

Harry nodded to say he understood, and gestured impatiently. With a growl and a frustrated shake of his head, Snape Disapparated. Harry stared at the spot the man had been for a long moment, hearing the spells whiz around him. He quickly cast another shield charm, just to give himself enough time to pull it together. _All right, Potter,_ he told himself. _You keep saying you're all grown up now, ready to be part of the action. Well then, go ahead and prove it._ Drawing a deep breath of air, Harry shut his eyes and followed his professor.

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The next thing Harry knew, he was crouched on the Weasleys' front porch, hearing a commotion from inside the house. _I did it,_ he marveled. _I wasn't sure I could, but I did—I managed it!_ He managed to gain his feet and stumble to the front door, where he called loudly before entering.

Ron was at his side in a moment, punching his arm affectionately. "Wow, Harry, Snape said you were all the way down on Penny Lane! You Apparated that far? Here, come on, they're gonna take Remus to Hogwarts." Grabbing hold of Harry's arm, he pulled the youth into the kitchen, where the werewolf was laid out on the table like the main course.

All the Weasleys were gathered around him, fussing and rushing and making ready to Floo him away. Snape was present as well, scowl firmly in place, though when he saw Harry he exclaimed in relief, "Potter! Thank God!" And he swept forward, looking like he was about to hug the boy, and Harry took a terrified step back. The man plucked his wand from Harry's nerveless fingers and held it up for inspection, eyes filled with relief. Harry didn't know whether to be indignant or relieved that the man seemed to dismiss him completely as soon as he had his wand.

Arthur laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, saying seriously, "Bill and Charlie are going to Floo him through, and then I'll go after them. I want you and Ron to follow, understand? Keep well out of the way, though; he's in a fragile state, and we don't need any jolts or accidents."

Harry nodded vigorously, and stood well back next to Ron as they carefully maneuvered the man to the fireplace. "Hogwarts!" Molly called, tossing a handful of powder in, and the men stepped into the flame. Arthur followed quickly, and Molly nodded to Harry and Ron. "All right, dear—be careful, that's it," she fretted over them as they went and Harry tried to give her one last, reassuring smile.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley conjured a stretcher, and Remus was floated on it off to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore met them there, where he and Madam Pomfrey had a close look at the werewolf, asking everyone else to wait outside. Harry hated not knowing what was going on, and paced the hall while Ron followed, pestering him with questions.

"What happened? How did they find you? What did they get Lupin with? Are you hurt? You've got blood on your face. Is it yours, or Lupin's, or Snape's?" he asked, pointing at the gore.

Harry blinked a bit. Things were kind of muddled in his head, particularly where the attack was concerned. They'd been driving and talking…and Snape had yelled something…and he remembered the car being on its side, and looking out to see Remus being attacked, and a flash of black nearby; Snape…and he'd crawled out to get to the man, to try to help…

"I…I think I kind of hit my head," Harry said. "I'm okay, though. It's Remus I'm worried about. I don't know _what_ they hit him with. I saw some of them kick him, though. Listen, Ron," Harry made sure they were far enough down the hall from the others before leaning forward and continuing in a low voice, "you don't know how we could find out what's going on, do you? In the hospital wing?"

Ron, glad that Harry seemed so much more himself, and was taking an interest in finding things out again, grinned broadly. "You mean like the Extendable Ears I happen to have on my person at this very moment? Sure, Harry. Well go around to…let's see; it's Madam Pomfrey's quarters next door, and I'm sure there's a way to get between the two without her having to walk all the way down the hall. Oy, Dad!" He jerked his chin at his father. "Harry's really got to use the loo, so we'll be back in a bit, all right?" His father nodded distractedly, and went back to arguing with Charlie about something, and Ron and Harry darted down the hall.

They snuck into the mediwitch's rooms with a minimum of difficulty, and made their way slowly to the westernmost end of the chambers. "Cor, you think she _wears _these?" Ron hissed, plucking at a pair of pantyhose that was trailing, foot first, out of a drawer, and both Harry and Ron paused to shudder.

"Well, this seems like the right door," Harry whispered, after they had crossed a couple of rooms and come to an entrance. "There surely can't be anything beyond this, unless it's the hospital wing, right?" Ron pulled the ears from his pocket, and they slipped them under the door. Harry stuck one end in his ear and listened closely.

Immediately, he heard Professor Dumbledore speaking. "It is too much of a risk, I'm afraid. The countercurse to _Stupefy_ or _Petrificus Totalus_ would almost certainly react badly to the potion he'd need for the internal injuries suffered from the Slicing Spell."

"We _need _to give him that potion, Albus. The rest he'll live without, but I don't fancy his chances without the potion," Poppy replied, sounding angry. "How did you say this happened?"

"There isn't time for that now," the Headmaster replied. "I am not arguing with you regarding the potion—I agree; giving him the potion is for the best. Since Remus _is_ a werewolf, I expect there is every chance he'd recover without it, but it's nearly certain to speed his recovery time. The rest will just have to wait. If we can keep him under, in stasis, for as long as it takes for his more serious injuries to heal—"

"We cannot keep him in stasis and expect the potion to work. He will not _heal_ that way, Albus! The best we can do is give him the potion and let him rest. After a couple of days at most, his body should be mended enough to risk doing the countercurses." Madam Pomfrey's voice was upset, but professional, and Harry bit his lip. He didn't like the way they were arguing over Remus's injuries—the idea that there was any dispute over the way to handle things gripped him with fear.

"Very well, Poppy," Albus sighed. "We'll have to keep a close eye on him, at any rate. His _external _injuries are, I understand, easily taken care of?"

"Yes, quite," the mediwitch responded, and her demeanor had become brusque and clinical once more. "Now, about Severus and the boy—"

"Severus has already retired to his chambers, intending to rectify his own injuries—yes, I _did _advise him against that, but you know what he is like, and—"

"Foolish, _stubborn_ man," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "I'll see him this evening, make no mistake about it. Why that man turns aside every friendly hand is beyond me, but I'm not giving up! One way or another, he's got to learn it's better to turn to me in the beginning, than after the problem's been exacerbated." The Headmaster knew better than to argue with this line of pontificating, and wisely stayed silent. "Well, then, what about the boy? I'm given to understand there was blood on his face? Let's get him in here—that child is a _magnet_ for trouble, and has almost as little common sense as Severus!"

Harry was so shocked by this comparison that he almost failed to recognize Ron tugging at his sleeve, until his friend muttered urgently, "Harry, come on! They're looking for you! We'd better go—we don't want them to find us in _here_."

Shaking his head, Harry allowed Ron to lead the way from the room. Madam Pomfrey tracked them down quickly, and dragged Harry back into the hospital wing to tut-tut over the cut on his head before healing it with a quick waive of her wand. "You'd better ask Sev—that is, Professor Snape for a blood-replenishing potion, before you go to bed tonight," she advised. "I've no bottles on hand, since classes are out, and head cuts always are the worst bleeders. Oh, and while you're there, mind you check if he's still limping, and report back to me. That mulish, _pig-headed_ man!" she grumbled, going back to check on Remus, and Ron flashed a grin at Harry.

Harry wanted to ask if he could stay and visit his werewolf, but Ron wanted to leave, and Madam Pomfrey _had_ said to report back to her, so he could come back later. So long as he visited Snape, first, which was an unpleasant thought.

Ron apparently thought so too, because he tried halfheartedly to talk Harry out of going, though he eventually relented. He even offered to go along with Harry to the dungeons, saying that Harry looked pale and seemed out of sorts. Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Ron that the reason he was out of sorts was that he was worried about Remus, and had nothing to do with the bump on his head.

So, after a quiet meal with Dumbledore and the Weasleys in the Great Hall, Harry and Ron made their way down to Snape's lair, as Ron put it. They'd had to ask Professor Dumbledore the way, and then Ron hummed a funeral march all the way down the stairs. "Stop _doing _that," Harry pleaded, almost wishing he were alone. Sometimes Snape could be almost decent, if Harry was working hard and thinking a lot before he spoke, but Harry didn't expect Ron to understand that, and he doubted Snape would be inclined to be anything but nasty if Harry showed up with a friend in tow. He wasn't sure _why_, he just had a feeling Snape was more easily dealt with when one was alone.

He was right.

"Are you _lost_, Mister Potter, or have you the gall to accost me in my own sequestration for some actual _purpose_?" he sneered, glaring down at Harry with chilling black eyes.

Harry took a moment to work out what the man said, ignoring Ron's fidgeting beside him. "Er," he finally said, flinching when Snape's eyes narrowed further. "Madam Pomfrey sent me. Um. Because she said I need some blood-replenishing potion, and she's out." He shifted from foot to foot as the man stared at him for a long moment before swinging the door open.

Sighing, the man's shoulders fell a little and he seemed to convert from malicious to merely aggravated. "Potter, I am sorry to say—well, perhaps not terribly sorry—to say that I have none on hand. I'd expect a person of your year to be able to make one yourself." He raised his eyebrows, and Harry frowned.

"I could, I guess; but I haven't any ingredients. What do you suggest I use?" Harry tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but he could tell from the subtle twisting of Snape's face that he wasn't entirely successful.

"You could, you _guess_? Well, why don't we find out? I _am_ a Potions Master, and as it so happens, the components are available to me. Go through that door—there—and you will find a workroom. I will oversee you, and we shall see if you _could_ make this potion, that you _guess_ is within your grasp. What say you?" His lips turned up slightly at one corner, and Harry gritted his teeth.

"Fine," he growled, and hurried through the door, Ron making distressed noises in his ear. "I bet if you told Pomfrey, she'd tell him to make it for you," he told Harry when Snape left to get another jar of toad's eyes. "I mean; you're all wan and shaky! He shouldn't be making you do this. Snape should do it himself. I know she'd make him. Tell Pomfrey," he urged.

"I bet she wouldn't," Harry contradicted, carefully measuring one spoonful of dried, crushed anise seeds. "Because Snape had to make his own potion for a broken leg, and _he_ still doesn't look too good, does he?"

"Does he _ever_?" Ron mumbled mutinously.

"So, if she knew about this, she'd just make us _both_ spend a few days in the hospital wing, and she'd probably have _you_ helping her make the potion. Now, I wouldn't mind visiting Remus up there, but I don't want to be _stuck _there, and especially not with her nagging me like she does. So just shut up and help me remember if it's _oil _of antimony we need, or is it _essence _of antimony?"

"Essence of antimony and oil of antimony are the same ruddy thing, Potter," Snape informed him tiredly from the doorway. "Do you _never_ listen in class?"

"Er, sometimes," Harry replied quietly. "When you're actually teaching something and not just insulting me, anyway."

"_That's_ not very often," Ron pointed out with muted glee, and the teacher shot a hateful look at him.

Slipping onto a stool and setting the toad's eyes next to the rest of the materials, Snape sighed deeply. "How much of the crushed anise shall you use, Potter?"

Nervous, Harry glanced back at him. "Ah, typically we'd used a spoonful, but I don't know that we need that much, considering it's only going to be for one person—"

"Carry on with the spoonful," Snape interrupted. "You might as well make a whole batch, if you can manage it. It stores well, at any rate. Tell me, Mister Weasley, why is the anise included in this particular potion?"

Ron blinked. "Um. I dunno. It can stop cramps and flatulence, I remember that much." He shrugged when the professor rolled his eyes. "Sorry."

"Potter? Have you any guess, or has the slight concussion robbed you of what little brain power you had left?"

"'S to reduce the nausea induced from the South American pepper," he said resentfully. "And the pepper's a coagulant, which you might need if you're taking the potion because you're bleeding a lot. So there," he added spitefully, stirring the cauldron.

"Counterclockwise, you utter fool," was all Snape replied, but he didn't sound as smug as he might have.

After the potion was finished, Snape ladled out a portion for Harry, and watched the boy as he swallowed it. "No sudden dizziness? No abrupt flaming in the joints? Well, pity. It seems you managed to concoct it correctly, then. Here, take the rest up to Madam Pomfrey," he told them and, showing them to the door, added, "And tell that _shrew_ that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, and she's to stay well away from me! Is that clear? Good," he huffed, and slammed the door on them.

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Ron handed the bottle to the woman as soon as they arrived, and took delight in announcing, "He says he's good, but he's still limping pretty badly. And he seemed kind of shaky, too! What d'you reckon, Harry—was he shaky?"

Harry, eyeing Remus's prone form through the doorway, nodded abstractedly. "Yeah, he was shaking and pale. If you want to go check on him, I could stay with Professor Lupin," he offered, looking up at her.

"Well, I suppose that would be fine," she said, going to grab a couple of things from a cupboard before heading to the dungeon to do battle with the grouch of Slytherin. "You just make sure he isn't feverish, and let him suck that wet sponge that's in the bowl on the bedside table, if his mouth seems to be moving. If anything other than that happens, just call for a house elf. They'll come get me. Care to assist, Mister Weasley?"

Ron looked up, surprised and apprehensive. "What? Er—I don't think—" But she was already shoving some linens into his arms, and he gave Harry a beseeching look. Snape would find out they'd told her he wasn't well! But Harry was too busy looking in at Lupin, and Ron was dragged unhappily away.

Harry tugged a chair over to Remus's bedside, and slipped his own smallish hand under the man's larger, square one. Stroking it gently, he gazed down at the werewolf. "Gosh, I'm really sorry this happened, Remus," he whispered, uncertain that there was no one to hear him. "This was all my fault—again. If I hadn't eaten that stupid candy—" But really, how could he have known?

The thought stopped his mouth. How _could_ he have known? Harry felt a little weight lift from his chest, and knew Remus would be pleased—the man was always very introspective, and Harry remembered how his eyes gleamed every time Harry managed to take his thoughts to a new level. Remus wouldn't want him to blame himself. He didn't _have_ to blame himself, not this time. He regretted the fact that they'd fought recently, but they'd made up, after all, and like Remus had once told him; fighting with someone didn't mean you stopped caring about them. It hadn't been Harry's fault. It had just happened. Voldemort was behind it, as always, and when they finally had the opportunity, they'd make him pay. For now, it was just important that Remus rest and get well.

Harry smiled a little and pressed a quick kiss to the back of the man's hand. "I'm here, Remus," he whispered. "I'm right by your side, and I'll take care of you. Just like you've taken care of me. Just like it should be, Remus." Still smiling faintly, he gently brushed a lock of hair away from the man's face. As soon as Madam Pomfrey returned from her adventure, Harry was determined to tell her about his decision. Like it or not, Poppy Pomfrey was getting a new assistant.

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Thanks to: Eric2, Quills 'N Ink, Dracula555, Read300300, HecatedeMort, TeamExtremeGurl,

Prlrocks: No problem! I can answer any question, any question at all! You'll notice I didn't claim to be able to answer them _correctly_…I think Snape is actually my favorite character, which is why I never seem able to weed him completely from my fics. Snarky is sexy!

Poicale: I am jealous of any author that makes actual money…yet intrigued that it is possible to do so writing what is, essentially, werewolf-related smut. Who knew? And you were right! They ended up at Hogwarts, after all!

HellPhoenixSirius: He likely would glare at you, and use long, sarcastic words, too. Yeah, the AFF chair is, no doubt, the dirtier chair. This one is lacking sadly in chairs and dirt. I'll make it up to everyone next chapter. Which SHOULD BE the very last chapter, btw.

Silver Phire: Yeah, I thought they might do something like that, too. Which would be kind of surprising, even to me, since my characters often do whatever the hell they want without taking any notice of my directions. But it wouldn't have been too much of a surprise, considering I'm a Snarry writer at heart—but I managed to stop them! Constant Vigilance!

Sunnysparkles: There shall forever be Snape, particularly in my fanfics. And there will be more action in the next chapter, I promise thee.

Kireina: I hardly need tell you what you'd need, in order to have sex like Remus and Harry. Although I, too, have often wished for exactly that. Stupid fictional people get to have all the fun, don't they?

Immortal Memories: And with a black eye, too! There are lots of times I've wanted to do that to Snape, but mostly I have pity on him. But really, if you get all the good lines, you have to be prepared to make a few sacrifices!

Goody2sho: laughs God's in his heaven, all's right with the world, because there is new Remarry in it. Or—God said, "Let there be slash." And there was slash, and God looked around, and saw that it was good. Oh yes, _very_ good. They were being brats, weren't they? But the path of true love never does run smooth…

Nanner: glomps back Don't be late, now!

Sweet Mercy: Snape's the most fun when he's a bad boy. He's just a little instigator, isn't he? But yeah, Harry and Remus do need each other…how badly, they've yet to admit…

Somnia Lustre: "Except for the fact that he hates both of them"…laughs Yeah, I think at minimum 'non-hate' would be a pretty essential requisite to him butting in on the relationship to have one of his own.

Silver-sunn101: Hey, no steam and lots of plot this round, so there! I can't do both, can I? Snape tends to be kind of immature in canon, always throwing fits and such, so I think that's pretty normal. Remus isn't, but hey; he's anxious about Harry's welfare, so that _might_ be enough to impel him to violence. That, and the lack of sex, right? Anyway, I think Remus is lucky, because he can blame all bad urges on 'the wolf' and not admit they're a part of him. If he CAN admit they're a part of him, he's very introspective.


	10. Second Opinion

TITLE: Research and Development Part X: Second Opinion

AUTHOR: 

PAIRING: Remus/Harry

RATING: NC-17

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be simple, right? The secret is spilled, the mystery Death Eater attacks, and Snape delivers a bombshell.

CATEGORY: (Drama / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETAS: The Singular ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: This is it, my friends, my darlings—the last chapter. It's been a great ride, and I enjoyed taking you all with me. As always, I hope you continue to follow my writing and stay in touch! Now, I hope all is clear, resolved, and satisfying for you, but please let me know any concrit you may have.

Part X: Second Opinion

Being Madam Pomfrey's assistant gave Harry the opportunity to learn a lot about healing, as well as do a lot of deep introspection. Since she couldn't be with her patient all the time, she often left Harry to keep an eye on Remus when she needed to do errands, and because the man did not stir, Harry had a lot of quiet time on his hands. Harry, who'd been thinking a career in healing might be good—since that way he could patch Remus up after his transformations—soon found himself rather bored. After the initial blood and adrenaline, healing was mostly watching and waiting, and cleaning out nasty cuts. Ron visited occasionally, trying to be understanding, since he was under the assumption that Harry's attachment to Remus probably correlated to his loss of Sirius.

After they had been back at Hogwarts for nearly two weeks, Harry and Ron played a quiet game of Wizard's Chess as they awaited Madam Pomfrey's return from Hogsmead. As Harry glumly moved the pieces across the board, a moan from the other room caused his head to swing round. "Remus?" he queried tremulously, and dashed into the man's room when he heard his name called in response.

His feet skidded on the smooth tiled floor, and he came to a stop at the man's bedside, throwing his arms around him. Remus smiled exhaustedly up at him, his very aura exuding love and warmth and comfort, and Harry's heart fluttered madly. He pressed a fervent kiss to the man's lips, and suddenly Harry heard a gasp behind him. Harry froze, and felt Remus do the same. _Ron._

Harry jerked away, whirling to face his friend. "Ron…" he said hesitantly, unsure of how to handle the situation. Should he be blunt? Should he make excuses? How bad had it looked? Would his best friend turn his back on him? "I…" he continued weakly, and began chewing his lower lip.

Ron's voice was low. "You were _kissing_ him, Harry! What the hell? Do you—are you…? That's…" He trailed off, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Yeah, I did. I kissed him, that's true." Harry took a couple of deep breaths and nervously adjusted his glasses. Remus cleared his throat behind Harry.

"Ron, I'm sure emotions were simply running high," the man began to explain, but Harry cut him off.

"Don't, Remus. Don't bother with that. Ron isn't stupid. And—I don't want to lie to him, okay? It's different with him. Ron, I—" Harry tried, but Ron wasn't listening.

"Harry! He's a _bloke_! And he's—he's…_old!_ Since when do you kiss blokes? What happened to Cho? And what's _wrong_ with you?" Ron was ranting by this point, throwing his arms about, his face all red and tense.

"I…I liked Cho, I really did. _She_ liked a dead guy a little more than she liked _me_, though. And…I've always kind of…you know. Anyway, it's not like I jump all over every male I come across, and I never will either; it's only Remus. I can promise you that, Ron; I'll never make a pass at you or anything—it's _just Remus_."

Ron's face drew compact in anger. "Just Remus? _Just Remus?_ Just a former teacher who's twice your age and male besides, not to mention a werewolf and not too well off _because_ he's a werewolf? Is that what you're saying? Merlin, Harry! Tell me that's not what you're saying. This is…this is _bad_, mate. Do you have any idea what people like Rita Skeeter would _do_ to you if they found out?"

"Ron…I can't help it. Do you understand? _It can't be helped._ I need him. I—"

"You _need _him? He's supposed to be like a _father_ to you, not—not—whatever you two have been doing! You didn't do _that_, did you? Oh God, Harry! He's supposed to be, like, taking _care _of you! Did he make you do stuff? I swear, Harry, if he forced you to do anything—" Ron grabbed Harry by the shoulders, shaking him a little.

"No, Ron, _no_! It isn't like that at all! You've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, really. I wanted him. Ron, I _wanted him_. Be angry with _me_ if you're going to be angry with anyone. _I'm_ the one that started this. I want him! I want to be with him! Can't you accept that?" Harry's voice had taken on a pleading, desperate edge.

Ron ran a hand through his hair a couple of times, making it almost as wild as his eyes. His mouth opened and shut, but for a long time, nothing came out. "Harry…_nobody_ is going to accept this." He backed away towards the door. "You have no idea how much trouble this is going to cause. No idea." Then he turned and stumbled out of the hospital wing, leaving a distressed Harry and remorseful Remus behind.

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Ron managed to successfully avoid Harry until school started again, despite Harry's best effort to speak with him. After about his fifteenth time through the castle, looking for Ron, Harry gave a disheartened sigh and went to visit Lupin. Despite his werewolf strength, Lupin was still in pretty poor shape, and couldn't even get out of bed yet.

Trudging into the hospital wing once more, Harry was lost in his troubled thoughts, and didn't even notice there was someone already visiting Remus until he was almost at the door. Harry stopped, wondering if he'd be interrupting, but then he realized it was Dumbledore's voice he was hearing. Feeling only a little guilt, as the Order frequently left him out of things that Harry felt he'd be better off knowing, he flattened himself against the wall, his head cocked as he listened in.

"…and I assure you that I must," Dumbledore was saying in a patient voice. "Fudge still feels he would do better with more control of the school, and Educational Decree Twenty Two is thus still in effect."

"It doesn't make a _difference_, Albus," Remus promptly replied. "You _can't_ take me on again; you'd be deluged with Howlers and meetings with parents who do not want their children exposed to a werewolf. I'm _dangerous_. I shouldn't be here, however much I think of Hogwarts as my home. I'm sure the Ministry can scratch up someone suitable for the Defense position."

Harry felt his heart pounding. Dumbledore was offering Remus his job back? But that was wonderful! That was _fantastic_. It would take care of all Harry's worries about how far the bond could be stretched, and allow Remus to make some money at the same time. He was frustrated with Remus for arguing, but knew why the werewolf was doing so. For one thing, the man felt responsible for Harry's current difficulties with Ron. Moreover, the confrontation with Ron had dragged all sorts of fears and insecurities back to the forefront of Remus's mind; he was tormented by guilt for taking advantage of a child, he felt as though he'd stolen Harry's future away, and he was certain that Ron was going to tell the Order he was carrying on a relationship with Harry, and soon there would be consequences to pay.

It looked as though Ron had kept the situation to himself, though, if the Headmaster was offering Remus a position at the school again. Harry found the thought comforting.

"Do we really want to take the chance that the Ministry will come up with someone halfway competent? We are reaching a critical point, Remus. Harry has only two years left at this school, and before he leaves I should like to think we had prepared him as best we could. And there is another thing to consider; Harry has only two years left before he might be considered to have reached his full majority. Tom _will not want to wait _until Harry is a fully trained Wizard. He will kill Harry before he graduates, if at all possible. I need someone to stay close to Harry. Harry needs someone to teach him. You are the only one."

Harry strained for a moment, before Lupin gave a great sigh, and Harry knew the man had already given in, although he wouldn't admit it right away. Harry bit his lip, smiling at the idea of having his mate nearby all the rest of the year.

"…Severus Snape is just as capable," Lupin was saying doubtfully when Harry tuned back in.

"Severus is better off where he is just now," Albus responded. "And Harry doesn't trust the man, although I hope he shall come to do so. He trusts you, Remus."

"But…what about all the parents, and the people that—"

"I will ignore them pro tem, as I did Hagrid's detractors, until they have had a chance to calm down and evaluate your teaching skills more rationally. I will assure them that we will take extra precautions, and those precautions will be duly taken. Remus, I need you to trust me."

Another heavy sigh. Then, "…I do, Albus," rang out in a hollow voice.

Harry slipped away before they could discover him.

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The moment Harry got away, he scrawled a quick note to Hermione and went down to the owlry to send it. He had to be careful of the words, but he knew he'd feel better if he got a chance to tell her before Ron put _his_ spin on the situation, so Harry did his best. He couldn't come right out and say he was gay, could he? That wasn't the sort of thing you told someone by mail. And he couldn't mention Remus by name, in case it got intercepted. Finally, with an uneasy shrug, he decided to keep it simple.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hope you're doing okay. Everything is all right here. Have you talked with Ron lately? I can't get him to talk to me…I have something kind of important I want to tell you in person. I need to talk to you as soon as possible._

_Take care,_

_Harry_

It was short, and it wasn't terribly friendly, but at least it got his point across. He gave a dispirited half shrug, and attached his message to one of the school's owls.

A day later, Harry got a response from Hermione saying that she wouldn't be arriving until the first day of term, and was he all right, since she hadn't seen him since the bus ride after the attack? It went on to note that Ron had also asked to speak with her, and they weren't fighting again, were they? Harry really didn't know how to respond to that.

At least Ron still hadn't _told_ anyone about Remus and him, however much he might disapprove of them. Harry hoped that he could eventually win Ron over, and that his friend would be able to see how much this meant to him, and someday forgive them both. It was rather lonely in the castle without any of the students around, Remus too weak to leave the hospital wing, and Ron avoiding him. Harry was beginning to get depressed: he stopped going to dinner in the Great Hall, and snapped at Snape when the man brushed past him in the corridor. That had earned him afternoons in detention of sorts, copying an entire book of defensive potions, and made Harry seethe at the unfairness of it.

Finally, Remus was allowed to move to his own quarters, and Harry wanted to sing in rejoice. He soon began sneaking into Remus's rooms in the middle of the night, his movements difficult to conceal, now that he'd lost his father's precious invisibility cloak in the attack on Grimmauld Place. He was sure Remus would try to send him away, but the man was far too tired to argue, and capitulated without a fight.

Harry was glad of this on many levels, not the least of which was that his presence seemed to soothe the werewolf, and he often lay awake for most of the night, stroking Remus's hair as his head rested against Harry's chest. This was going to be made much more difficult in a few days, when term started, but Harry cherished what time he had. Sex had become practically a non-issue, since Remus had no energy and Harry was under so much pressure because of the whole Ron fiasco that he wasn't certain he could perform in any case. All he could think about was losing Remus, and what his life would be like without the man.

In fact, the bed Harry shared with Remus was practically the only place he could go just to unwind. During the day, between pseudo detentions with Snape, assisting Madam Pomfrey, and doing his best to track Ron down, Professor McGonagall was also adding to his burden. She'd called him into her office one day to discuss his OWLs and future, and had been hounding him ever since. Like Hermione, she seemed convinced that the world would hold no terrors for him, so long as he studied hard and knew what he was aiming for. He'd reiterated his goal to be an Auror, and she'd given him some extra books and advised him to bring up his Potions grade. After his third meeting with her, Harry was ready to burst. He would have dearly liked to tell her, 'Well, after I off the Dark Lord, I'm planning on selling my name to the Weasley twins for marketing, marrying Remus Lupin, and spending the rest of my life as a werewolf's househusband.' He felt, however, that this would not result in a decrease of his many problems, and kept his mouth shut.

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Finally, _finally_ term started up again, and Hermione arrived in a flurry of hugs and concern. The problem was that everyone else showed up as well, and they were finding a deucedly difficult time finding a place to be alone. Harry thought that after the great feast, where he flanked one side of the girl, and Ron the other, he and Hermione might have a chance to duck out, but Professor McGonagall cornered the girl, needing to see her about something.

After waiting up in the common room until almost midnight, Harry gave up and went reluctantly to bed. Ron was either asleep or pretending to be, so Harry flopped down on his own now unfamiliar mattress, and pulled the curtains around him. As much as he knew he should get to sleep as quickly as possible in order to be refreshed for the first day of school, he had difficulty finding slumber. Only after giving up on Snape's Occlumency advice and remembering Remus's technique, and calmly practicing it for more than an hour was Harry finally able to drift off.

He woke late the next day and had to rush to get to Transfigurations. When he reached McGonagall's room everyone else was present, and class was ready to begin. He'd missed yet another opportunity to speak with Hermione alone. Sliding into his seat, Harry cursed Ron under his breath for letting him oversleep. Was he _ever_ going to see that Harry had everything under control?

As class ended, McGonagall called Harry to her desk, and he lifted his books and went, gritting his teeth. "Mister Potter, if you are going to be so lax as to show up for the very first day of your sixth year classes late, then there will be no hope for you as an Auror! You do take my meaning, don't you?"

And she went on and on, as Harry nodded and mumbled, "Yes, Professor," and "No, Professor," as expected, all while trying to hold back an impending explosion. Finally he was free to go, and ran to catch up with Hermione, who was well on her way to the dungeons.

Unfortunately, Ron had gotten to her first, and it was obvious that he was using the opportunity to tell her everything. His head was ducked down, whispering in her ear, and Hermione's face was blank with shock. "Wait!" Harry called, hurrying to join them and explain. "Please, wait!"

Hermione looked up at him, her face stern. "_Harry_," she said in a scandalized voice. "What were you _thinking_? Don't you know that this is the sort of thing that could ruin your academic career? Not to mention what could happen to _him_! You have to stop, Harry!" She gave him a worried look, rushing towards Potions, still averse to being tardy.

He gave Ron a filthy look over the top of her head, and was somehow pleased when Ron flushed and looked away. "Hermione, you don't understand," he began desperately, sickened at the thought of losing his only possible ally. She _had_ to see the sense in this, she just _had_ to! "I can't help it! I'm in love with him, Hermione. Did you hear me? _I love him!_" He tried to catch at her sleeve as they turned the corner, and they suddenly came face to face with Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown, and most of the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin classes.

Harry stopped short. He could feel the red creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. Most of the students were staring at him, and some had already started to murmur to one another behind their hands. Draco Malfoy's face slowly lit with an unpleasant smile. "Oh, you '_love him_,' Potter? And just who is it you're pining away for? It isn't me, is it? I know I'm irresistible, but I'm afraid we don't breed any _sodomites_ in the Malfoy family." He smirked nastily, and a few snickers around them made Harry wince.

Hermione spoke up instantly. "No, you just produce murderers and cowards, don't you Malfoy? Come on, Harry," she said, grabbing his arm and tugging him into Snape's classroom. "Just ignore the pathetic little git."

"You're the perfect little trio, aren't you?" Malfoy's taunting voice followed. "The Mudblood, the vagabond, and the shirt lifter. It's too priceless!" he laughed.

"Shove it, Malfoy," Ron growled at him. Harry wasn't all that encouraged by this—he was pretty sure Ron was taking offense on his own behalf, and Hermione's. Malfoy merely sniffed, his eyes laughing.

The entire Potions class was spent with Draco giving Harry amused looks and passing notes around. Harry's heart sank when he noticed Pansy Parkinson pass a note onto Parvati, and witnessed Parvati giggle and pass it on. It looked as though the Slytherins weren't going to be the only ones that had a problem with Harry, this time.

When the day was finally over and Harry stumbled into the boys' dormitory, he got a nasty surprise. All of his belongings were packed and sitting at the end of his bed, Hedwig's cage perched atop his trunk.

"What's this?" he asked loudly, glaring round the room.

Ron pretended to be deeply interested in his Quidditch magazine, and didn't say anything, but Seamus exchanged a look with Dean and Neville.

"Well, Harry," Neville said timidly, "it's not that we have a _problem_ with you being queer, and all—"

"Right," Seamus jumped in. "We don't object to you being gay in _general_, we just don't want you being gay around _us_. Er."

"Look…we just aren't…you know, _comfortable_ with this whole thing," Neville explained. "So maybe you could sleep somewhere else?" He looked embarrassed, and slightly ashamed of himself. Dean didn't look particularly enthusiastic about the idea of Harry leaving, and neither did Ron, but they didn't stand up for him, either.

After a long moment, Harry stomped into the room and grabbed his things. "Fine," he told them in a cold voice. "If you all want to behave like a bunch of stupid bigots, that's just _fine_. Just for your future reference, you're all a bunch of hideous, underdeveloped _runts_ that I would not touch with a ten-foot broomstick. I happen to enjoy the company of older men, and frankly I don't think any of you would be sufficient for my sexual needs. Just so you know," he repeated, and left the room in a huff.

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Remus was sympathetic, but worried a lot about the situation. "You oughtn't stay here, Harry," he told the boy more than once. "It's not going to be long at all before the students put two and two together, and then we'll _both_ be in a boatload of trouble."

Harry didn't care. His adoring public had turned on him more than once, and he was sick of living his life to their expectations. He was actually a little surprised when he realized that it was true, and not just something he kept telling himself to make himself feel better. Hermione was still his friend, albeit a rather nagging one at the moment, and Ron didn't _completely _ignore him all the time, so maybe there was hope for him, as well. Everyone else could go bugger themselves.

That didn't stop people from giving him a hard time, though. He found a portable swamp in his Quidditch locker, someone put Epoxy Potion on his chair before Charms, and there were a lot more stares, whispers, and jokes than normal. Draco Malfoy kept trying to convince the teachers that Harry had sexually harassed him, and he was called in to more lectures than he knew what to do about. Professor McGonagall told him that being gay would almost certainly make getting a career as an Auror more difficult. Professor Snape insulted him—even more viciously than usual—at every turn. Even Hagrid sat him down and, after a horribly awkward fifteen minutes discussing bandyramps, asked if it was true, and was Harry sure? Really sure? It couldn't just be hormones, could it?

Near the end of one Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Ernie Macmillan told Susan Bones, in a rather loud voice, that he'd almost rather deal with You-Know-Who than Harry Potter. "After all," he pointed out, "there aren't any reports of You-Know-Who _shagging_ anyone he attacks."

Remus looked positively murderous at this, and only Harry's pleading eyes and desperately shaking head convinced the man not to pick Macmillan up and shake him until his teeth rattled. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff," the professor said brusquely, eyes glittering in a way that no one dared argue with him. "That obscenely foolish comparison is an unfortunate illustration of how little you understand this class. I'll expect you to think before you speak in the future, and not trivialize the threat of Voldemort by bringing one boy's sexual preference into it, Mister Macmillan."

Harry stayed after class, and turned to his teacher with a large sigh as soon as the last student left and the door closed. "Do we have time for a talk, or do you have another class soon?" he asked.

"It's lunch," Remus said curtly. "You know that as well as I do."

Harry hid a smile, knowing that Remus was only frazzled because he worried about Harry. "You don't have to be upset, you know," he told the man. "It's not as though I give a damn what Ernie Macmillan thinks, of all people. I mean, first he assumes I'm the heir of Slytherin, and now this. Not exactly a clear thinker."

"No," Remus agreed, putting the class assignments into his briefcase. He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't like them treating you this way," he admitted after a long silence. "They don't even know about us. All they know is that you prefer men. And that's enough to turn them into beasts. The things they've been saying," he growled helplessly. "They wouldn't _dare_ if they knew. The little wretches wouldn't _dare._ Really, Harry. I'm not going to be able to stand much more of this."

Harry perched on the edge of the man's desk, smiling wryly. "What are you going to do about it? Huff and puff and blow Hufflepuff House in?" Remus managed a small smile, and slumped back in his seat. "Easy on, Superwolf," Harry advised him. "You're too tense these days. Aren't you supposed to be recuperating? You don't have your full strength back, do you?" he added wistfully, for his mate's gruff voice and protective demeanor had brought his libido up to speed with shocking abruptness.

Remus didn't notice the tent in Harry's robes, because his head was thrown back, his eyes closed. "No, not yet," he said. "I can do classes without much difficulty, and I'm certainly a great deal better, but I'm not exactly ready for calisthenics," he mused.

Harry glanced from his professor to the closed classroom door. Someone _could_ walk in anytime. That only made it more exciting. He scooted closer, a smile blossoming on his lips. He shouldn't wear the poor man out, though. He should make sure he did all the work himself. Sliding along the desk until he was opposite the man, he dropped lightly to his feet between Remus's open knees.

Lupin's eyes popped open, and he looked at Harry questioningly. In answer, Harry gave him a cherubic smile and dropped gracefully to his knees. "Harry? What are you…?" Remus gasped when Harry ran an eager hand up his thigh, not even pausing when he reached the man's crotch, but stroking that heated place with ardent bearing.

Harry bit his lip seductively, rubbing his cheek against that hard thigh. "Professor? I'd really like an advanced lesson…" With a long, smoldering glance, Harry turned his head and nipped at the fabric on the inside of Remus's knee.

"Harry…stop that," Remus ordered weakly, shuddering when the boy's hand firmly grasped his growing erection through his robes. The youth ignored him, looking somehow more studious than he usually did in class as he worked at the fastenings of the werewolf's outfit. "This is a bad idea," the man lamented.

"Shut up, Remus," Harry replied forcefully, and Remus was so stunned by his mate's sudden aggressive streak that he found he _couldn't_ reply, even though he desperately wanted to object. Well. Not as desperately as he wanted Harry to keep rubbing his face in that spot, but pretty desperately.

After gulping a couple of deep breaths, Remus grabbed Harry's wrists and forcefully pushed him away. Unfortunately, since Harry had been squatting in front of him with precarious balance, this served to knock Harry onto his butt. The student was almost entirely under the desk, and glared at the professor with irritation, pushing his wayward glasses back up his nose. Remus frowned and began refastening the clasps on his robe. He started to rebuke the boy again, but suddenly the classroom door swung open.

Lupin, still partly exposed, shoved Harry further under the desk with his foot, rolling the chair forward as Professor McGonagall entered. "Professor Lupin," the woman was saying, "I think we need to discuss Mister Potter."

Harry's interest perked when he heard his name, but not half as much as part of his body did when Remus had scooted the chair forward, virtually shoving himself in Harry's face. "…Er, yes, Professor McGonagall?" he distantly heard Remus say dutifully, even as the man squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Harry grinned in the darkness under the desk. Here was the _perfect_ opportunity to get Remus back for shoving him away like that!

Harry snaked a hand up the man's leg towards his eventual goal, but suddenly a large hand that obviously belonged to someone else smacked down on his wrist, pinning it there. It made a bit of a sound, and from outside his lair Harry heard McGonagall say something like, "…so I think we ought—goodness, Remus. What was that?" Harry shook with suppressed laughter. _Poor Remus—this hot and bothered and having to hide it._

"…'s nothing, nothing at all," Remus replied, his voice noticeably scratchy. Harry began twisting and pushing, trying to jam his way between the man's legs. "Ah…just…after the attack, I get the occasional twitch, is all." _Twitch, eh?_ Harry leaned forward and blew a bit of warm air against the man, who did indeed twitch in response. He heard Remus give a cough, and then swallow loudly a couple of times.

Minerva was speaking again, but for the life of him Remus couldn't focus on what she was saying. He felt Harry's left hand in his lap, and quickly caught it as he had the other. The boy was wriggling like a fish between his legs, and damn it if that wasn't getting him more aroused. "…and look what I found left in my classroom after fourth period," McGonagall said, holding out a sheet of paper. _Shit_. In order to take the proffered scrap, he'd have to free one hand. And lean over a bit. Gritting his teeth, Remus pressed roughly down on the boy's wrist, an unspoken order not to move it. Slowly taking his hand away to reach out, Remus relaxed as he realized the youth's hand wasn't going anywhere. Harry must be realizing just how serious this was.

That's when he felt the slick heat of the boy's tongue licking him. Remus froze, his eyes wide. "Ngh," he managed, picturing that tongue and what it was doing. He snatched the paper out of the woman's hand and glanced at it, the image completely failing to overcome the one that had already taken root in his mind. He felt Harry's lips, and the hot mouth slid down, sucking gently all the while. He'd meant to drop the paper and quickly reach down to shove the boy's head away, but found he was shaking too badly with…well, with excitement. Steadying his hand on the desk so the other professor wouldn't see, Remus felt his mind trying to go off in a dozen different directions. McGonagall was staring at him, one eyebrow raised expectantly, and Remus reverted to giving a generalized response regarding the paper. "Er. Surely you aren't surprised to see something like this?" he hazarded. He figured he was fairly safe in saying it, since Hogwarts was full of crazy things, and crazy things happened all the time, and most of the students, when it came down to it, were crazy with things like hormones, so you saw just about everything once.

Except, possibly, the most famous of all the school's students, down on his knees under the DADA desk, doing _that_. Remus certainly _hoped_ that didn't get seen, at any rate. "Well, _no_. I'm not surprised," McGonagall was blathering on, "but I think we ought to be keeping an eye on…" Harry was experimenting a bit now. It was a bit messy, it was definitely inexperienced, and it was absolutely _wonderful_. After all, it hardly mattered that Harry had never done this before; it was quite difficult to do that sort of thing badly.

"Oh God," Remus muttered, and Minerva gave him an odd look. Harry was really getting the hang of it now. Remus felt his hips beginning to twitch forwards, an inexorable need to thrust grating its way from the base of his spine to the primitive part of his brain. He felt his fingers curl into claws on the desk, and looked down to see he was gouging chips of wood from its surface. He stopped immediately. Damn werewolf strength, anyway.

He looked up into Minerva's surprised face. "Well," she said finally. "I'm glad you understand the seriousness, then. It's likely an empty threat, but one can never be too sure—especially with adolescents. I hardly need tell you not to take matters into your own hands, though." Remus looked down, abashed, struggling not to think about how his own left hand had let go of Harry's wrist to tangle in his hair, pushing the boy's head a bit, encouraging him.

"Mm-hmm," he responded absent-mindedly. Blasted boy, being so very enthusiastic about all of this! How was Remus supposed to behave? Fingers tightening in the youth's hair, Remus was more attuned to whether or not he seemed to be gagging Harry than he was to whatever Minerva was saying. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't be called on to recount any part of this conversation later.

"Well, then. I'll leave you to get on with things. Are you coming to lunch?" McGonagall was cocking an eyebrow at him, and by dint of much effort, Remus worked out what had been said. He couldn't respond coherently at this point, so he shook his head and gestured to the scrolls still left on his desk. "Ever the diligent worker," the woman noted. She made her way to the door, and paused a moment. "You know, it really is good to have you back."

Remus smiled painfully, and fumbled for his wand the moment the door had completely shut. He quickly cast a spell to lock the door, then put up a Silencing Charm, and finally pushed himself back from the desk just far enough to see the efforts of the audacious brat beneath. "You—" he began, and had to stop, as his breath was quite cleanly gone. Harry's face was flushed with excitement, his eyes narrowed like a cat with cream. Remus certainly hadn't expected the youth to be _enjoying_ it although, come to think of it, why he'd refuse to stop if he wasn't _would_ be something of a mystery. The boy's glasses were crooked on his face, but Remus felt it made him seem even more wanton and sensual… And as for _sensual_…there were absolutely no words Remus could put together to describe the exquisiteness of those swollen, rosy lips and what they were doing. And Remus Lupin was a man of many words.

Harry looked up at him finally, and those clear eyes were round with ingenuousness, sparkling with playfulness, and dark with want. Remus felt the youth's body shuffle round, until Harry's legs entwined the lower part of one of his own. The boy moaned at length, and began rubbing himself unreservedly against Remus's leg. Harry's hardness, pressed firmly to Remus's shin, left no doubt that Harry was indeed enjoying himself. The werewolf thought it would be the end for him, and he knew he couldn't possibly last much longer.

Remus was losing what little control he had left. "_God_, Harry," he groaned, his hips lifting of their own accord. "Unbelievable… Can't tell if you're—an angel—or a devil—tempting and offering…salvation…dear Merlin. At the same time. Please, Harry." Harry's head was moving much more slowly now, as Remus jerked his hips up and let them fall again repeatedly. The youth was moaning almost continuously, and grinding his own hips with abandon.

Harry gave a cry from deep in his chest, which sent vibrations straight into Remus's groin. The man could fell Harry spend himself, warm wetness spreading across his shin. "Stop. Harry," he grunted, pulling the boy's head away by his thick, soft hair. "I'm going. I'm mmmh. Going to," he gasped out, and Harry's tongue flicked out one last time.

"Good," the youth responded, still trying to attach himself to Remus again, his mouth open, his eyes lidded. Remus cringed inwardly, thinking Harry would surely find it disgusting, but the man could no longer hold back. With a gasp, his entire body became merely an insignificant background to his length, which erupted in orgasm.

"God, I'm sorry, Harry," the werewolf rasped, pushing the chair further away from the boy.

Harry seemed surprised by this, and cocked his head to the side. "Why?" He ran his tongue over his upper lip, cleaning off at least some of Remus's mess. "It was _fun_." He wiped his face with his hand, and licked at his fingers seductively, giving Remus one of those all-too-entirely-ready-to-do-this-again looks. "And so what if it's messy? We've go magic to clean ourselves off." As if to demonstrate, Harry produced his wand and cast a cleaning spell on the man's leg, which instantly felt less disgustingly drippy and sticky.

Remus smiled, glad that it hadn't overwhelmed Harry. He just kept underestimating the boy, no matter how often he tried to think of him as the adventurous sort of soul he really was. The werewolf sighed deeply, leaning his head back against his chair. He was completely exhausted; his entire body felt as though it had been subjected to some strange and foreign ritual. Well, he supposed it rather had. It had been a long time since anyone had offered to do _that_; everyone thought they could come down with lycanthropy from it or something. Looking down at the student in front of him, who was still engaged in tidying up, Remus blinked blearily. "Why," he finally asked, "Did you _do that_?"

Harry grinned up at him. "Got you back for knocking me on the floor, didn't it? Plus, we both got off—which I for one needed—and you didn't even have to get out of your chair. And hopefully it worked off some of that frustration we've been feeling towards the world, too. Didn't it?"

Remus gave a great yawn. "Yes. On the other hand, it was sickeningly irresponsible, and could have led to your expulsion—not to mention my death, Harry." He wanted the boy to take this more seriously, but felt inexplicably sorry when that mischievous face fell, morphing into a picture of sorrow and guilt. "It was quite stupid," he added in a lighter voice. "Definitely something Sirius would have done."

As Remus expected, Harry brightened up at this, and gave him another tentative smile. The werewolf reached out to press his palm to the youth's face. "Go find something to eat, you young degenerate. I won't have you thinking _I'm_ going to be your daily meal substitute."

Harry looked taken aback for a moment before laughing. Remus didn't generally make sexual jokes—it was almost as though he found them crude or something. How great to see him lightening up this way. "I don't know," the student replied with an unpracticed leer. "You're very good at filling me up."

Remus chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "Ugh. You've worn me out. Another round of that, and I'll be ready for the old werewolves home. Go get lunch. And bring me something—there's no way my legs are going to support me long enough to get all the way down to the Hall, and back in time for my next class."

Harry gave him a brief kiss. "Be back in a few. I can eat with you—nobody wants me around down there, anyhow."

Remus nodded sadly, watching the boy take down the spells on the door, giving him a short wave goodbye. With yet another tired sigh, Remus let his head plunk down on his desk. No two ways about it—that boy was going to be the death of him.

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Harry meandered down the corridor, humming softly to himself. He was a bit tired, and absolutely _ravenous,_ but much happier than he'd been just a half hour ago. _Merlin,_ but it was wonderful to have Remus in his life. It was _wonderful_ that Remus was teaching again. It was _beyond wonderful_ that the man let him do whatever he wanted sexually, never judging or telling Harry he was deviant. And it was thrilling to have gotten off on Remus's leg, even if it _was_ rather weird.

Grinning, he resisted the urge to skip or jump or dance or something, just a little bit, as he made his way down the hall. That would have been silly. Even if no one could see him. Well, he couldn't help it. He was in love. Love was _supposed _to make you act silly—that almost seemed to be the whole point. He wondered if he should mention the way he felt to his werewolf. He wondered if Remus felt the same way about him. Maybe. He'd seemed to like it, after all, when Harry had basically sucked him off. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean anything; that was _sex_. All blokes liked _sex_. Still, Remus tended to look at him in such a way that—

"Having a good day, Potter?" Harry froze at the malevolent drawl dripping down his spine. "Well," the voice laughed, "_That's _about to change. _Petrificus Totalus!_"

Harry fell forward, thanking the fates that one arm happened to be up in front of him, so that he wouldn't land nose-first on the hard floor. It killed his wrist to land on it like that, though. Footsteps drew near, clicking clinically on the stones.

"Do you have any idea how funny this is, Potter? The rest of them never even came close. All these years he chased after you, and all he had to do was ask me. Someone that actually _knows_ you. I knew that those despicable _Weasleys_ were your friends; I knew you'd take something given from them, even if you'd never accept it from anyone else. _I_ thought of that. _Me_. The others have been talking like this was some sort of _punishment_, the Dark Lord's way of penalizing me for having the effrontery to go after you on my own. I'm the only one that knows the truth. I am being _rewarded_ for my initiative! I have been given the opportunity to deliver you to him—or your body, at the very least!"

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Remus lifted his head from the desk, frowning when the paper McGonagall had left behind came up as well, stuck to his forehead. With a rueful half smile, he peeled it off. He understood that the woman was concerned about Harry, but really—it was just a harmless doodle. He'd seen worse—hell, he'd _done_ worse—back when he and James and Sirius were back at school.

He smoothed it out before him, taking the time to look it over. There was a little tombstone in one corner, with the words, RIP HARRY POTTER on it—how terribly inspired. There was what appeared to be a body in the middle of the page. It didn't look awfully like Harry—but then it didn't look much like anyone. It was just a crude body, with cuts and curse-marks all over it. Next to it was a masked Death Eater, hexes shooting out of its wand, laughing. And nearby…_nearby was an upended car._

Remus felt time stand still. It was a car. It was clearly a car. And for all its sketchiness, it looked remarkably like the mini. None of the students should have known anything about that. Unless Lucius Malfoy told his son…unless Lucius Malfoy son unless Malfoy unless… "_Oh God,_" Remus breathed. Could it possibly have been that simple all along? It _could_ explain everything. _So alike…but just different enough…_he thought. Slowly, Remus brought the scrap of paper to his nose.

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e H

A hand roughly rolled Harry onto his back, and he found himself staring into Draco Malfoy's flat eyes, eyes devoid of humanity. With a callous hand, Draco flipped a lock of hair from Harry's forehead, smiling bitterly down at the famous scar. Harry's innards seemed to cringe at this, but the rest of his body could do nothing. _Move, Harry, move, Potter, you can do it; you beat the Imperius Curse, you know you can do this if you just try hard enough to MOVE MOVE MOVEGODPLEASEMOVE! _Inside, Harry was screaming, writhing, and he wondered what was wrong with him, until he realized that Malfoy had cast Crucio on him. _Malfoy had cast Crucio. _

"I'll bet you didn't even know I was a Death Eater, did you Potter?" Draco asked conversationally, just as though he hadn't just been torturing Harry less than a minute ago. He rolled up his sleeve, looking proud of the disfiguration. "Took it this summer—Father was _so_ pleased. No one's ever qualified this young before. But of course, I'm a Malfoy. We kept it hush-hush, though. Our Lord's secret weapon. The one that can _truly_ defeat Harry Potter."

Suddenly Malfoy stood, and gave Harry a vicious kick in the ribs. "I _am _going to kill you, you know—don't fret about that. But I'll have my revenge, first. You made father look a _fool_, escaping him like that. I thought I'd have my revenge at the Black place—really, only _you_ would have been thick enough to take that candy—but those damn _rustics—_those _Weasleys_—got in the way. And ripped my cloak—although when my Lord discovered my failure, I realized that was the least of my problems. No matter, now. Now I have you. I knew I would eventually. Who else would have known to wait near the Burrow, wait and watch for you to come calling on your little _friend_? Who else would have been clever enough to expose Snape as a traitor? I _saw_ him Apparate with your werewolf."

Harry's jaw ached, straining to open and speak, to tell Malfoy just what a sick _beast_ he was. He longed to curl his hands into claws and gouge the humorless gray orbs out. He _yearned_ to break that thin, pale little nose.

Draco seemed to realize this, because he snickered. "Oh, this is so sweet. All that chasing round after you all summer, and all I had to do was sit and wait. First at the Weasleys, and then in an empty hall. A good hunter knows how to wait, you know." There was a small sound from somewhere, and Draco's head jerked up. They were right near the top of the stairs, and Draco glanced over the banister, making certain they were still alone. After a moment's unease, he smiled. "A hunter also knows when to stop playing with his prey," he said thoughtfully. "Better to have you dead and gone—and quickly—and for _certain_—than to be caught at this." He stood over Harry, pointing his wand at the other student's chest. "So, Potter. Any last words?" He pretended to listen, cocking his head to the side. "No? What a pity. How's this; I'll make some up for you. You'll have begged a lot, and cried, and wet your pants. Of course you did. Now, would you like to see my mastery of the same Unforgivable that took care of your parents?"

He raised his wand, grinning, and the words formed on his lips. "Avada—"

"_Expelliarmus!_" a voice shouted, and a bolt of magic shot past them, missing Draco. The Slytherin looked up, snarling and distracted. Harry felt a familiar sensation, and realized the voice had next cast Finite Incantatum. With a deep exhalation of relief, Harry scrambled to sit up, only to find himself staring at the tip of Draco's wand again. Harry opened and shut his mouth, his entire world reduced to the little glow at the tip of Malfoy's wand. He had seen death before. It had come to collect him before. He'd always known, deep down, that sooner or later it was bound to catch up to him. The voice cried _"Expelliarmus,_" again, and the spell hit Draco in the shoulder, knocking his whole body backwards.

Malfoy stumbled, right at the edge of the steps, staggering back one more foot…one more…teetering…

The staircase shifted.

Harry looked on in horror as Malfoy grasped at the railing that was no longer there. Lunging, Harry threw himself at the other student, hand desperately outstretched. Before he could get anywhere near the Death Eater, there was a sickening feeling of vertigo as Malfoy's inertia carried him over the edge, plunging, his robes twisted around him. A scream, high and rent from an unpracticed throat, and Harry wasn't sure which one of them it came from, and wasn't certain that it even mattered. His hands closed over nothing.

"Harry! Get back! _Get away from the edge_!"

Harry looked up, uncomprehending, as Lupin rushed to his side, jerking him away from the stairway that was now a sudden drop. Harry knew, without looking, that not one single staircase would have broken the fall, and that Draco's body will have fallen to the very ground floor, and likely would have fallen forever, if only the castle could have moved every one of its stones from his path. He shuddered, and leaned forward, arms clutching childishly at Remus.

Remus stroked his head, panting hard. He must have run all the way, even though he was so tired. He ran all the way. He was muttering soothing things into Harry's hair, maneuvering him deftly away from the precipice, telling him everything will be all right, even though neither one of them believed it.

Harry thought carefully. He could remember Malfoy back in first year, offering his hand. But he could also remember Malfoy's wand, an inch from his face. He remembered screaming, and Malfoy telling him he was a Death Eater. Malfoy would have killed him. He knew that. He had to hold on to that. Malfoy would have killed him. Swallowing was difficult. He had to do it several times before he could look up at Remus. "Superwolf," he murmured sadly, but gratefully all the same. "You saved me again."

Remus paused, then went back to smoothing Harry's wild locks down. "Of course I did," he agreed gently. "You are my mate, and I love you. I will _always_ come when you need me, Harry. _Always_."

Harry swallowed again around the painful lump in his throat, and buried his head in the man's chest. Remus wasn't going to talk about it, but Harry knew what had just happened. Remus killed Malfoy so that Harry didn't have to. He wasn't aware of saying it out loud, but he must have done, because Remus gripped his chin and pulled it up, looking down at him with stricken eyes.

"No, Harry. I killed him because he was going to kill you. You would not have had a chance to go for your wand. I killed him because I had to. There was no _time_ to consider anything else, Harry."

Harry smiled up at him, but he still became aware of hot tears splashing down his cheeks, and felt vaguely embarrassed. He didn't know what to say now. "I love you, too," he whispered hoarsely.

Remus kissed him softly, and pushed him back against the wall. "Sit. Rest. I have to get Dumbledore. I'll be right back, I promise." He walked over to the stairwell, and panic rose in Harry's chest like a bird in flight, but the staircase smoothly slid over to accommodate the man's feet. Still feeling nervous and confused, Harry waited until Remus was gone before being copiously ill.

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Harry woke up in the hospital wing, and found that Remus was sitting next to him, dozing in a chair. He hadn't been hurt terribly in the confrontation with Draco, he was just…in shock. He prodded the man carefully, and there was a quiet grunt and fluttering of eyes. "Oh…Harry. You're awake. How are you feeling?" The man looked down at him with concern.

Harry considered this. "Guilty. Angry. Confused." He shrugged.

"Er. I meant; how do you feel physically?" Remus rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh," Harry responded. "Then nauseous, mostly." Remus nodded at this, and soon Madam Pomfrey bustled over, offering a potion to restore the youth's equilibrium. Harry sipped it and let his head fall back on the pillow. After they'd sat in silence for a while, Harry cleared his throat. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"…I don't think I want to be an Auror after all." Harry looked away. Remus leaned forward and took Harry's hand, squeezing it gently.

"No?"

"…I don't…think I want to do that…see that…everyday. I don't want to kill people. Well, Voldemort. Bellatrix. I might…I could do that. But I don't want to _keep on _doing it. If I—you know. If I _do_. Win. I don't want to do it for a _living_."

"No."

It was only one word, but Harry thought Remus sounded like he understood. There was a silence, but it was devoid of the tension that had been there just a moment before. Harry felt the man's palm against his own.

"So…what do you think you _want_ to do?" Remus eventually asked. "Are you thinking of becoming a healer?"

Harry considered this. "Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe. I…thought about it. I kind of wanted to, for a while. It's just…kind of bloody, you know?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's true." He stroked the back of Harry's hand as the youth began to doze off again. "You have time, Green Eyes," he whispered softly. "Plenty of time. I'll be there to help you all the way." He kissed Harry's forehead, watching the youth's eyelashes flutter, and those perfect lips curl upward slightly. "Love you," he added.

"Love you," Harry whispered in return, feeling that secret thrill inside again. _Remus loved him._ He almost couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. Better than Quidditch, better than magic, better than sex. Remus loved him. Something nagged at the back of his mind as he drowsed. Remus said he loved him. But did Remus _really_ love him? Did Remus _have _to love him? They were bonded. Would Remus have ever been able to love Harry, if not for the bond?

Turning on his side, away from the werewolf, Harry hid the sudden tear that leaked out. _No. I forced him. I forced him to love me—because I forced him to bond with me. He never would have done it. Never would have said it, if not for the bond._ Feeling sad and confused once again, Harry drifted off to sleep.

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Harry walked beside Ron and Hermione down to Potions. It was weird to pretend that everything was normal, but Harry just didn't have the energy to face the truth head on. At least Ron was his friend again. Good old dependable Ron. After discovering that it was _his_ _house_ that had been watched, _his brothers_ that were tricked into giving Harry the candy, _his friendship_ that had nearly gotten Harry killed, he seemed to become a lot less distant. They played chess again, and stuck up for one another, and acted like friends. And they did not, under any circumstances, discuss Harry's relationship with Remus Lupin. There were just some points Ron wasn't ready to concede.

As they took their seats, Harry glanced up at the blackboard and felt a shock go through him. _Ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion,_ it clearly read. Feeling strangely exposed, he glanced around the classroom. A few of the Slytherins shot nasty glares at him, and one or two people muttered things behind their hands, but most everyone seemed to ignore him.

He took out a piece of parchment and began to write. They were learning to make the Wolfsbane Potion? Why? So Snape didn't have to do it himself all the time? Wasn't Remus going to be fired for killing Draco anyway? Harry scribbled the instructions down, and realized he was feeling excited. He liked this. He would be able to help Remus, without even becoming an Animagus. He _liked_ this.

Snape strode up to the podium in a whirl of black robes, and Harry hid a grin. "The Wolfsbane Potion is one of the most difficult mixtures to brew," he began without preamble. "It is hardly dangerous, in and of itself, which is why you are being allowed to learn it. However, it is also very new, and highly experimental, so a new variation may be achieved before you have even graduated. Still, being sixth years, you _ought_ to be capable of learning the potion, and then modifying that knowledge in the future." His sour look suggested he thought they were anything _but_ capable, but maybe that was just irritation at being locked in Hogwarts for a solid week, unable to leave in case the Dark Lord decided to punish him.

Harry began scrawling theory and doses down, listening to Snape talk about what ingredients might be substituted for one another, and what each one did. Then he mentioned that, with a very little adjusting, they might one day be able to use it as a 'cure' for lycanthropy. Harry's head jerked up, and he stared at the man.

Hermione raised her hand, and Snape's weary voice invited her to ask her witless question. "Is a cure being attempted now?"

Snape actually seemed to have difficulty deciding whether to answer yes or no. At last he shook his greasy head. "Not…as such. Obtaining test subjects is extremely difficult. There are, however, recent advancements in the potion, in the form of its anesthetic qualities, as well as inhibiting some of the less pleasant…_side effects_ of the transformation."

Hermione's hand waved in the air again, and the Potions Master's teeth began to grind audibly as he waved her to go ahead. "Is this _recent_ research? Who is heading it? How is it being funded? What—?"

"That's enough, Granger," the man snapped. "It is _very_ recent research, and _I_ am heading it, and it _isn't_ being funded—not well, at any rate. Since your _dear Professor Lupin_ has been recalled to duty, despite his lycanthrope status, I am testing it on him. When he lets me," he added in a disgruntled mutter.

Harry's hand shot up.

"What _is it_, Potter?" Snape gave him a glare, but Harry just squared his shoulders.

"Is it hurting him? Is that why he doesn't like the testing?"

"Don't be obtuse, you little cretin. Until recently, he didn't like to experiment because he never knew where he was going to be, when he transformed. He worried the potion wouldn't work. Now, he worries about eating one of you in your beds, I don't doubt. We need a controlled environment for his transformations." Snape took a series of breaths, and Harry wondered why he sounded so mad. "As we have none, we just make do with what we have. Now, the properties of the base oil, as you are aware…"

Harry stared at his notes, fascinated. This was interesting. This was _really interesting._ Smiling broadly, he met Snape's eyes as the man detailed possible future alterations. That cool, smooth voice did not falter, but an eyebrow rose on the man's impassive face. To Harry, he seemed just the slightest bit amused.

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Harry was there that night when Snape brought the Wolfsbane to Lupin. "Is that one of ours?" he asked, nodding to the goblet.

Snape's lip curled in disgust. "As entertained as I would surely be to see Lupin inflicted with whatever concoction you little morons dreamt up, I am nearly certain the Headmaster would wish to call me in and _ramble_ and _twinkle_ at me, should I actually administer it to him. No, Potter. I have some amount of pride, and would not stoop to such a thing." He handed Lupin the container with a scowl.

"Oh," Harry replied, looking disappointed.

Remus took a gulp of the stuff, wrinkling his nose. "You have them doing Wolfsbane? Isn't that a bit complicated?" he sounded interested, and gestured to an empty chair.

Severus eyed the thing dubiously, as though it might attack his rear, before cautiously consenting to take a seat, surprising even himself. Harry and Remus exchanged a quick look, but as they were now quite good at that, Snape didn't even notice.

"They can benefit from the _theory_, if nothing else," he explained, waving a hand. "Besides, it really is an up and coming development, and sometimes that captures a student's interest when making ancient recipes by rote rather bores them." Both Remus and Harry stared at this, and Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" Remus asked, unable to hide his consternation. Severus had never cared about whether or not his students were interested in something. Severus cared about whether or not his students were _terrorized _by something.

Harry, glancing at Snape's slightly reddened face, decided to have pity on the man. "No; he's right," he confided in Remus, and now _he_ was the one getting befuddled looks from his companions. "The theory—and the idea that new things are being done—really pulls you in," he explained. "Makes you feel like you're right there on the verge of discovering something. It's really great."

Snape eyed him, nonplussed. "Don't tell me the Boy Who Despised Potions would have been churning out miracle draughts for all these years, had only someone offered him the chance at _research_?"

Harry flushed and looked away. "I didn't realize there were still things happening in the field," he said defensively. "You only tell us about stuff that's been around for thousands of years."

"Untrue," Snape calmly contradicted. "You simply never listen to a word I say, which is why you never hear it when I talk about anything recent."

"Oh?" Harry challenged. "And you do, do you? Always going on about the stuff that's cutting edge?"

Snape shifted. "Well. Perhaps not exactly cutting edge. You have to realize, Potter, that there are a limited number of true Potions _Masters_ working in the field. And unless they are very rich, they cannot live on research alone. We do what we can," he added, sounding peeved.

Remus cleared his throat. "So. Is this recent research on the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Mine is," Severus retorted. "As you well know."

"What have you changed?" Harry asked eagerly.

Severus looked at him dourly. "Very little. Unless Mr. Lupin can be afforded a silver-lined _cage_, he categorically refuses to allow me to try any of the more drastic experiments."

"I don't want anyone _hurt_," Remus protested. "That last batch made me irritable. It could have been worse, if you'd added more sulfuric acid. Instead of _irritable_, I could have become downright _murderous_. I just want precautions taken, that's all."

"Well, I'm sorry I cannot scrape enough together to buy you a glorified _kennel_," Snape growled, arms crossed angrily over his chest.

Remus merely closed his eyes a moment. "I apologize," he said to the Potions Master, causing the man to hunch huffily in his seat. "You're only trying to help. It's not your fault we haven't the equipment, and it isn't your fault that you haven't the luxury of time, either. Some things just aren't meant to be. Perhaps someday. When everything is over, and things have settled down. For now, I'm grateful you've done this much."

Snape gave him a dirty look. "It isn't for _your_ sake!" he exclaimed. "This is my _chance_! Those damn Death Eaters have taken everything else from me. I made _brilliant_ potions for him, and look what he did with them! Just once, before I die, I will have _achieved_ something, you imbecile. There will be a cure for lycanthropy, right down in black and white, and _my name_ on it. And then I'll have bested him," he hissed, so quietly even Remus hardly heard it.

"That's…good," he finally said lamely. "You've got ambition, and a willing guinea pig, if nothing else. Or guinea wolf, as the case may be." A silence descended on the room. "Erm. So. What are your sources for the modifications to the Wolfsbane Potion?"

Snape leaned back in his chair. "I got papers on the original potion from Malarkey," he said. "He made the stuff, so he knows more about it than anyone. There are other texts I'm working from—several from right here in the library, in fact."

"That's good," Remus replied with feigned nonchalance. "Anything by Ignobal?"

Snape snorted. "That crackpot? The only reason any of his blatherings were worth anything was simply due to the sheer _volume_ of them. No man could write that much and be wrong about _all _of it."

Remus looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Well. There were some things he _did_ know, and other things that may or may not be useful in the future. After all, the werewolf mating, the bond that develops, is—"

"—A complete load of bollocks," Snape finished for him.

Remus looked shocked. "That hasn't—that hasn't been proven."

Snape twisted round to give the man a condescending grimace. "Of _course_ it has. Where have you _been_? They did up that study five _years_ ago on the probability of a werewolf mating bond. But I forgot; you probably couldn't have afforded _Potions Digest_ back then. One would have thought you'd find a way to follow up on that sort of thing. It was a very thorough study—the whole European Wizarding Institute was—"

"And what did they find?" Remus asked in a frighteningly flat voice.

"Lupin. What part of 'complete load of bollocks' don't you understand?"

There was a long, tense silence.

Severus twisted a sort of smile at him. "I must return to my papers," he said, gliding to the door. Pausing there for a long moment, the man added, "Goodnight to both of you," in a slightly reluctant voice.

Remus was still frozen in his chair. Harry stared at him, not quite being able to process the information. Suddenly he felt the urge to giggle. They weren't bonded. They_ weren't bonded. _It had all been in their heads. The desperate desire for one another, the pain from being parted, the strange feeling that they could tell where the other was at any given time—_it was all in their heads._ Harry knew this should bother him, but a fragment of thought kept ricocheting around his head, keeping him from concentrating on any of that.

_He said he loved me. He said he loved me. He said. He said. Love. Me. Love me. Remus. Never forced. Wanted to. **Wanted**__to. Meant it. Really, honestly meant it. Remus…loves…me…_ Harry wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry. He clasped his hand over his mouth, but he felt the hysterical laughter bubble up all the same, shaking him like a leaf. After a few moments, he looked up at Remus, who was standing in place, swaying slightly, and the look of dawning horror on the man's face sobered him up immediately. Harry felt as almost as though he'd been slapped.

"R—Remus…?" Lowering his hand from covering his mouth, Harry reached out towards the man.

Remus simply gazed at him without a hint of comprehension in his eyes. He looked like he might be ill. Abruptly, the man bolted from the room.

Harry leapt to follow, but tripped over the table, and by the time he managed to get to his feet again and stumble to the door, the hallway was clear.

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The first person Harry approached was the headmaster, who had indeed heard from Remus. Unfortunately, all Dumbledore could tell him was that Professor Lupin had rather unexpectedly tendered his resignation. After a bit of careful questioning, Harry was left with the impression that Remus had seemed distraught—over the death of Malfoy, in Dumbledore's eyes.

Harry walked away from the man's chambers on leaden feet, sucking on a flavorless candy with lips that were completely numb. Would they ever feel again, without Lupin there to kiss them alive? Harry headed to McGonagall's rooms next, knowing all the while that it wouldn't matter. The man hadn't even packed his things. He'd just—just run away.

On some level, Harry understood why the man was so upset. He'd buggered his best friend's son, a minor, a _student_. Harry figured guilt didn't get much worse than that, even if it _hadn't_ really been anyone's fault.

McGonagall didn't have any clue to where Remus might have gone, so Harry found himself pacing the castle in the middle of the night again, not caring if he ran into Filch, or Peeves, or _anyone_. Perhaps, though, he _did_ want to run into _someone_. Deep in his musings, an irate voice interrupted him, belittling and challenging and taking away points, and Harry looked up to see he'd wandered into the dungeons.

Staring at Snape's marble face, Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why did you tell him that?"

The man blinked, raised his brows. "I thought he wanted to know. He seemed to be fishing for information. I gave it to him. What would you have had me do?" The words were cool and crisp, but the Potions Master's dark eyes glanced about the corridor, making certain they were alone. "Here, Potter," he said, stepping away, and Harry following him into his office.

"You knew," Harry whispered to the floor, as the man seated himself and gestured for Harry to do the same. "How could you do something like that? You just…just ripped everything to shreds, in the blink of an eye. For what? For _what, Snape? For WHAT?_" Harry was almost screaming with hysteria, but the man seemed as composed as ever, giving him a faint sneer.

After waiting for Harry to pull himself together, the Potions Master rubbed the bridge of his nose. "To make him pliable," he finally clarified. Harry's mouth fell open. "Really, Potter, he's a terrible test-subject, and he'd told me he wouldn't stay on after this semester. Not for _anything_. That stupid werewolf and his—his _morals_. He simply couldn't abide buggering a student. Now, I'll grant you; that was hardly my concern, and I'd ordinarily be delighted to be spared the 'pleasure' of his company, but I can hardly make progress on the potion without someone to test it on."

Harry took a couple of shaky breaths, feeling angry tears well up. "_That's_ why you did it? _That's_ why you ruined everything? Just so you could have your precious _potion_, your stupid _name_ on it? My God, you are just…pathetic. Vile. _Indefensible._"

"And…Slytherin," the man added, nodding slightly. "And don't get up on your high horse just yet, Potter. It benefited you as much as it did me. And _him_, as well, although he's too bloody self-righteous to see it."

Harry jumped to his feet, his jaw clenched. He stared at Snape for a long time, but couldn't think of anything to say. Finally he left the room. Maybe tomorrow he'd talk with Hermione and Ron. If nothing else, they knew the truth. And could offer _friendship_ and _honesty_, at least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"If you love him, Harry, you'll just have to prove it," Hermione said matter of factually as she spread jam across her toast. "Give him some space, and let him know that you're still interested. But show him you're mature enough to handle a _real relationship_."

Harry winced—it really did sting, hearing that. Like they'd just been playing about or something. "Yeah," he told her dismally. "And just how do I go about doing that?"

Hermione gave a slight shrug. "Do all the things adults do when they're planning on entering a real relationship with another adult. Think about what you want to do with your life. Make plans. Consider your options and interests—and how well those coincide with his. Sort out what you need. Make lists."

"Hermione," Ron interjected suddenly, "I don't think adults _make lists_ when they go to ask someone out on a date or something. They just do it. It's kind of a spontaneous thing."

Hermione seemed to consider this, and although she couldn't really argue the point, she did flop her hair and say, "Well, perhaps they _should_, then," darkly in response.

Harry groaned. What was he going to _do_ with his life? Get it taken away by Voldemort, most likely. _All right,_ he told himself. _And if that **doesn't**__happen?_ Harry squirmed in his seat. What did he want to do? Help people. How? Help Remus. How? Fix Remus. Cure Remus. Harry found that he was staring at Hermione, and Hermione was looking back, her eyebrows raised. He got to his feet and took one last bite of bacon before heading for the door.

"Harry?" he heard Hermione call. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure," he confessed over his shoulder. "Talk to Professor Snape, for starters. After that, I don't know. But I'm not giving up." He ran smack into the Potions Master as soon as he left the Great Hall. "Oh, good. I was about to come looking for you." The expression on the man's face told Harry how unlikely the Potions Master thought _that_ was. No matter. "I need your help with something…"

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With the help of Mundungus Fletcher, Harry finally cornered Remus in Flourish and Blotts during the Christmas holiday. The man's head was bent over a book, his graying hair soft in the store's light, the lines in his face deeper than ever. To Harry, he had never seemed so comely. Of course, he hadn't seen the man in _months._ He'd missed him so very much that it was hard not to go right over and throw himself down on his knees, and beg to be taken back.

Instead, he walked casually over and leaned on a bookcase. "Good read?" he asked.

Remus started. He paled and looked away. "Harry. I—Harry…"

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm impressed. You've managed not to forget my name." The man flinched at that, staring at his knees. Harry sat down across from him. For a long time, neither one spoke. "Why did you go?" Harry finally asked, his voice full of sadness.

Remus finally looked him in the eye, his face worn and heartbroken. "I'm sorry. I never. I'm sorry." He looked down again. "You shouldn't be here. You could get into trouble, and I—"

"I love you."

Remus fell silent. "…You don't know what you're saying," he mumbled.

Harry shrugged. "I know less than some people, and more than others. Someday I'll probably know more than I do now. But I'll still love you. I just wanted you to know that. I can't make you come back, and I'm not going to apologize for something I couldn't control, and wouldn't take back in any case. I can't smooth over the guilt you're feeling, and it saddens me terribly. I don't know what to do, Remus. I just…I miss you. I want you to be a part of my life—even if you refuse to be _that_ part. I'd like you as a friend, as a teacher, as…as an _acquaintance_, even."

Remus rubbed his eyes. "But failed you at every turn. I molested you, and I didn't figure out why Malfoy smelled so familiar until he'd almost _killed_ you, and I—I ran away, because I knew I couldn't control myself. I took advantage of you, and I'd continue to do so. Well, I couldn't promise I _wouldn't_, at any rate. I'm _depraved._" He looked up at Harry with anguished champagne eyes.

"Stop that. Am _I_ depraved? Am I? Because I liked it too, you know. I was the one that talked you into it. I—I _seduced _you. I wanted you more than I'd ever wanted anything, and went after you with everything I had. And I'm _still_ not sorry for it, though I'm sorry what it's done to you."

Remus shook his head angrily. "You didn't seduce me! You were a child! _Are_ a child. You didn't seduce me at all—I knew perfectly well what I was getting into—all those dreams about you, all the fantasies, and oh, yes, I wanted you well before anything actually happened!"

Remus sounded angry, but Harry couldn't help but be flattered. "You…you did? You really wanted me? Because I…God, Remus…I had fantasies too, you know." Abruptly Harry blinked, trying to clear his head. "All right, anyways. That's all in the past. That's not why we're here now."

"It's not?"

"No. It's time to think about the _future_, Remus. And I can do that, because you gave that to me. You gave me a future, and an ability to believe I'd be a part of it. And I want you to be a part of mine. I love you. I want you. I can't promise everything will work out—but I can promise that I'll _try_. I want to build a future with you, Remus."

Slowly, Remus looked at the boy. Where did this self-possession come from? Where did that awkward, in-between child go? "Harry…" But those eyes were looking at him with something totally different than lust. They were calculating and determined, and…loving? Worshipping? Adoring? God. Remus had seen that look before. Not in those eyes, but on that face. Remus had seen that resolve—when James had looked at Lily. James had never given up. Not until he got his girl. Shaking, Remus felt a wild desire to laugh. He was already conquered, wasn't he? He had been the first time those eyes had set their sights on him… Weakly, he made one last attempt. "Harry…you're just a _child_. You don't even know what you want to _do_ with the rest of your life, let alone who you'll share it with."

"Oh yes, I do," Harry replied with confidence. He pulled out a scroll, and began smoothing it on the table between them. "I want to build something. I want to _make_ something. Something that will help people and continue to help people, even after I'm gone. That way, even if Voldemort wins, I still _did_ something with my life. I've already got things started; see, I can make good money on interviews, but I can also let a ghost writer do an autobiography type of thing…the money will go directly into the project, although I'll spend time doing fundraisers and stuff like that as well, once it's safe. Hermione's on board; I told her we'd need to work on finding representation for magical creatures' rights and make changes in the Ministry…"

Remus gaped, shaking his head. "Harry…this is…you planned all this?"

Harry looked down modestly. "Well, I had _help_. Ron and Hermione and Snape and even Dumbledore all helped a lot. And all the Weasleys, and…not just _me_, anyway." He looked up slowly. "I love you. I'm willing to wait if I have to. I want you to come back to teach. Dumbledore has been substituting, and it's running him into the ground." He waved a hand at the blueprints, crisp and detailed, with trees blowing in the foreground. "I'm going to do this no matter what you say. I want you to know that. It's coming from inside of me, even though you inspired it." Remus nodded, and Harry looked relieved. "You told me you'd always be there for me," he whispered, sounding suddenly unsure, and Remus smiled, relieved to find he hadn't _totally_ left that all behind.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I thought you'd hate me. When all was said and done, I mean. Oh, Harry. Can you ever forgive me?" He looked at his hands, frowning.

Harry watched closely, knowing that Remus didn't mean forgive him just for leaving, and knowing also that 'when all was said and done' really meant that Remus thought it wasn't. But that was all right. So long as he had time to prove otherwise. "You're forgiven," Harry replied. "I'm not giving up. Not ever. You know that, don't you?"

Remus gave him a crooked smile. "Oh, I'm counting on it. Because for the next two years, I'm not going to lay a finger on you. If you're still in love with me after that, you'll be a saint as well as a hero."

Harry smiled and crossed his ankles. "You won't…you won't hug me or _anything_?" he asked plaintively.

Remus laughed. "Oh dear. Yes, I'll hug you. Of course I'll hug you. I meant we will no longer be having sexual relations," he elucidated, and grinned when Harry blushed a little, ducking his head.

The boy reached out and took his hand. "That's all right. I think…I think love is better than sex, anyway. If you gave me a choice of having one or the other from you, I'd choose love every time." He looked up uncertainly.

Remus cupped his chin. "I will always love you, Green Eyes. That's a promise I wouldn't be able to break, even if I tried. I'm sorry I couldn't face you…couldn't face myself. It didn't mean that I stopped loving you, even for a moment."

Harry looked away, trying to hide the melting he seemed to be doing, as it was welling up in his eyes. After a few moments, he recovered enough to ask, "Will you come back with me?" Remus nodded again, and Harry grinned shyly. He gestured to the scroll in front of them. "You aren't…you aren't mad about this, are you? Your name and all? I worried maybe you wouldn't want it plastered all over the place, but if it weren't for you…"

Remus shook his head, grabbing the youth's hand and giving it a squeeze. Harry leaned over and rested his head against the man's shoulder. "Can I keep this?" Remus asked, picking up the paper. Harry grinned and nodded, and Remus held it up in the light. The building was spacious and dignified and lovingly crafted, and the grounds in the design were everything they should be. He stared at the words on the side of the structure again, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders. "The Remus J. Lupin Institute for Research and Development," he read aloud. They made their way to the door, headed for Hogwarts and home. "Really, Harry. All Lily ever got was flowers."

The youth laughed, and Remus kissed him lightly on the nose. He'd have to watch that, in the future. But that was all right, because there would be another future along in a minute. His future. Their future. He was finally looking forward to having one.

Fin

Now, just because this particular fic is finished does not mean you have seen the last of me! I have several projects in the works at the moment, including an original slash novel, a Ginny/Draco for my friend Nari, and the sequel to The Master Plan, so do stay tuned for further developments!

Thanks to: Doughgurl2008, naa, Dracula555, Read300300, Hecate deMort

Poicale: Yes, I'm afraid it really, most sincerely is the end. But not of the world, I assure you.

Silver-sunn101: The implication was that at first there was only one Death Eater—Draco, and that when the others began to show up Snape Apparated, so that they only got a glimpse of him from a distance. But Draco recognized him anyway, and let the cat out of the bag. I wouldn't mind if Harry had issues walking, but the plot is important. Now if only AFF wouldn't be down all the time, as well as me having problems with my lj and homepage…gah. How irritating!

Silver Phire: I think I am a Snarry shipper at heart, so my subconscious desires tend to slip through a bit. I tried to make Snape a little more eeevil in this fic, and therefore less attractive.

Immortal Memories: I haven't read much in the way of Snupin, but it's plausible and can be kind of cute. A Harry sandwich would be cute, too, though.

Katte: Yeah, Snape is kind of the catalyst for a lot of things. He enjoys Harry and Remus fighting, and I'm still not sure that he didn't have designs on Harry. He certainly liked the idea of being able to blackmail Lupin, but until Lupin had something he wanted, he kept his mouth shut. A true Slytherin till the end. I tried to make Harry less static than in most fics—I hope that came through!

Adele Sparks: Well, there was only one really smutty moment, but I tried for the whole sly twist thing. And a bit of comedy. But with great suspense, and less confusion than the TMP action sequence. I'm trying to learn how to write action, damn it! It's difficult. Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for all your marvelous help with this one!

Juxtaposed: Snape is actually my favorite character, so I tend to hoard the best lines for him. Sometimes I forgot that he wasn't the main character in this one! I'm glad you liked my Remarry—I like the _idea_ of it, but I don't often find it written well. It's definitely a challenging pairing. That's probably why I like it! But of course, I still like Snape better, which is probably why I have something like two Snarries to every Remarry. Boy, does that sentence look weird.

Sunnysparkles: I promise I'll get going on something new and fabulous soon. I'm so glad to hear that it's been your favorite; that really makes my day! Thanks! : )

Goody2sho: Squeal away, my dear. Anyway, if you can't annoy your friends, who _can _you annoy? I'm happy to know you've enjoyed it!

SweetMercy: Yup, sorry but it really was the end. I really wanted to work Alex into the Death Eater plot somehow, but couldn't find an elegant way of doing it while knowing that Draco was behind 99 of it. Sigh. I didn't want this to stop, either at times. It was a good experience and a lot of fun!

HellPhoenixSirius: Me, too. Slytherin all the way! I mean; Snape and Lucius are just delicious. And the guys they cast as Lupin and Sirius really disappointed me. Ick. Count me a snake, baby. Thanks for your wonderful support, my faithful reader!

Somnia Lustre: I was _determined_ not to go over ten chapters in this one. In TMP, I let myself go on and on until it was really unwieldy. In this one, I was determined to give it a short and punchy climax, without several chapters of backstory/smut/pointless prose, even though I really wanted to. Anyway, I hope it was still a good ending, for all that had to be wrapped up in it!


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